THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MEMOIRS 


NEW  ENGLAND  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 


OCCASIONAL  REFLECTIONS. 


BY  A  MEMBER. 

I   „        C) 


What  though  no  cherubim  are  here  display'd, 
No  gilded  walls,  no  cedar  colonnade, 
No  crimson  curtains  hang  around  our  quire, 
Wrought  by  the  ingenious  artisan  of  Tyre  ; 
No  doora  of  fir  on  golden  hinges  turn  ; 
No  spicy  gums  in  golden  censers  burn ; 
If  humble  love,  if  gratitude  inspire, 
One  strain  shall  silence  even  the  temple's  quire, 
And  rival  Michael's  trump,  nor  yield  to  Gabriel's  lyre. 
Pierpont's  Jlirs  of  Palestine. 


BOSTON. S,    G.    GOODRICH,    ANI>    CO. 

1829. 


DISTRICT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS,   TO    WIT: 

District  Clerk's  Office. 

BE  it  remembered,  that  on  the  tenth  day  of  March,  A.  D. 
1829,  in  the  riftythird  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  S.  G.  Goodrich  and  Co.  of  the  said  district, 
have  deposited  in  this  office  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof 
they  claim  as  proprietors  in  the  words  following,  to  wit : 

'  Memoirs  of  a  New  England  Village  Choir.  With  Occasional 
Reflections.  By  a  Member.' 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States, 
entitled,  '  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing 
the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors  and  proprie- 
tors of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned ; '  and 
also  to  an  act,  entitled  «  An  act  supplementary  to  an  act,  entitled 
e<  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies 
of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of 
such  copies  during  the  times  therein  mentioned  ;  "  and  extending 
the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  etch- 
ing historical  and  other  prints.' 

JNO.  W.  DAVIS, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


TO 

THE  MEMBERS 

OF    THK 

HANDEL  AND  HAYDN  SOCIETY 

OF 

BOSTON. 

I  dedicate  to  you  a  work,  of  which  the  principal 
merit  is  a  humble  co-operation  in  the  design,  so  suc- 
cessfully prosecuted  by  you,  of  improving  the  Sacred 
Music  of  New  England. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


MEMOIRS 


NEW  ENGLAND  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 


PART  FIRST. 

THE    MEETIXGHOUSE. 

WISHING  to  present  a  sketch  of  manners  in 
New  England,  and  of  some  changes  that 
have  occurred  in  our  taste  for  sacred  music, 
I  have  presumed  to  adopt  for  the  purpose,  a 
kind  of  desultory  narrative. 

The  time  when  the  few  humble  incidents 
occurred,  which  are  recorded  in  the  follow- 
ing pages,  embraced  about  ten  years,  bor- 
dering upon  the  last  and  present  centuries. 
The  place  was  a  village,  situated  not  far 
from  the  river  Merrimac  ;  and  for  the  sake 
of  avoiding  any  invidious  allusions  or  inter- 
pretations, I  shall  give  to  the  town  the  ficti- 
tious name  of  Wateriield. 


%  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

Many  years  had  now  elapsed,  since  any 
interruption,  or  indeed  any  thing  extraordina- 
ry, had  happened  to  the  music,  that  was 
barely  tolerated  in  the  meetinghouse  at 
Waterfield.  At  the  period  when  our  me- 
moirs commence,  the  long-established  lead- 
er, Mr  Pitchtone,  had  just  removed  with  his 
family  to  one  of  the  new  towns  in  the  Dis- 
trict of  Maine,  and  the  choir,  which  had 
been  for  some  time  in  a  decaying  state,  was 
thus  left  without  any  head,  or  any  hope  of 
keeping  itself  together.  For  some  Sundays 
after  his  departure,  not  an  individual  ventur- 
ed to  appear  in  the  singing  seats.  Young 
Williams,  the  eccentric  and  interesting  shoe- 
maker, who  was  an  apprentice  to  his  father, 
knew  perfectly  well  how  to  set  the  tune,  but 
he  had  not  as  yet  acquired  sufficient  self- 
confidence  to  pass  the  leading  notes  round 
to  the  performers  of  different  parts,  nor  to 
encounter  various  other  kinds  of  intimidating 
notoriety  attached  to  the  office.  The  female 
singers,  besides,  had  been  so  long  and  so 
implicitly  accustomed  to  their  late  leader, 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

that  nothing  could  have  induced  them  to 
submit  to  the  control  of  so  young  and  inex- 
perienced a  guide.  And  as  no  other  mem- 
ber of  the  congregation  possessed  sufficient 
skill  or  firmness  to  undertake  this  responsible 
and  conspicuous  task,  the  consequence  was, 
that  nearly  all  the  performers,  at  first,  absent- 
ed themselves,  not  only  from  the  singing 
gallery,  but  even  from  church.  Most  of 
them  had  been  so  long  habituated  to  their 
elevated  position,  and  their  active  duty  in 
the  place  of  worship,  that  they  could  not 
immediately  undergo  the  awkwardness  of 
sitting  below  among  the  congregation,  and 
were  not  a  little  apprehensive  of  meeting  the 
stares  of  mingled  curiosity  and  reproach, 
which  they  knew  would  be  directed  towards 
them.  In  addition  to  these  circumstances, 
many  had  not  the  heart  to  witness  the  em- 
barrassment and  pain  which  would  naturally 
be  created  in  the  minister  and  his  flock,  by 
the  anticipated  chasm  in  the  usual  routine  of 
worship.  Two  or  three,  however,  of  the 
more  courageous  in  the  late  choir,  ventured 


4  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

to  attend  church  even  on  the  first  Sabbath 
after  the  removal  of  Mr  Pitchtone.  They 
went,  indeed,  at  a  very  early  hour,  for  the 
purpose  of  avoiding  notice,  and  took  their 
seats  in  some  unappropriated  pews  in  a  very 
distant,  and  almost  invisible  quarter  of  the 
gallery. 

The  entire  congregation  having  assembled, 
the  clergyman  waited  some  time  for  the  ac- 
customed appearance  of  the  sons  and  daugh- 
ters of  sacred  song.  It  is  almost  universally 
the  practice  throughout  our  New  England 
country  churches,  to  commence  public  wor- 
ship with  the  singing  of  a  psalm  or  hymn. 
On  the  present  occasion,  no  person  being 
ostensibly  ready  to  perform  that  duty,  the 
minister  began  the  services  with  the  '  long 
prayer.'  Yet,  when  this  was  concluded,  an 
imperious  necessity  occurred,  of  making  at 
least  the  attempt  to  diversify  and  animate 
the  business  of  the  sanctuary,  by  an  act  of 
melody.  Accordingly  the  Rev.  Mr  Welby 
announced  and  read  the  psalm  adapted  to 
the  subject  of  the  sermon  which  was  to 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  O 

succeed.  Then,  having  waited  a  moment  or 
two,  during  which  a  most  painful  silence 
and  suspense  pervaded  the  congregation,  he 
began,  in  a  voice  naturally  strong  and  clear, 
to  sing  the  psalm  alone,  still  keeping  his 
usual  standing  position  in  the  centre  of  the 
pulpit  Only  one  voice  was  heard  to  sup- 
port him.  It  was  that  of  the  venerable 
deacon,  who  sat  immediately  beneath,  and 
who  hummed  a  broken  kind  of  bass,  without 
the  accompaniment  of  words,  there  being 
scarcely  a  hymn  book  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  meetinghouse.  The  same  scene  occur- 
red in  the  afternoon,  with  the  slight  addition 
of  a  female  voice  in  some  part  of  the  house, 
which  lent  its  modest,  unskilful,  and  half- 
suppressed  assistance  through  the  conclud- 
ing portion  of  the  hymn. 

Blatters  went  on  nearly  in  this  way  for 
the  space  of  a  month,  at  the  end  of  which, 
the  singing  began  to  improve  a  little,  by  the 
gradual  return  to  church,  though  not  to  the 
singing  gallery,  of  the  stragglers  who  had 
composed  the  late  choir,  and  who  were  now 


6  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

willing  to  join  in  the  vocal  duties  of  worship 
under  the  auspices  of  the  pastor.  At  length, 
when  about  six  months  had  been  thus  drag- 
ged along,  an  occasion  offered  for  a  return 
to  the  deserted  orchestra,  in  a  manner  which 
might  somewhat  shelter  the  mortification 
and  inspire  the  confidence  of  the  rallied 
choristers. 

A  Mr  Ebed  Harrington,  who  had  recent- 
ly removed  into  the  village  for  the  purpose 
of  studying  medicine  with  the  physician  of 
the  place,  had  some  pretensions  on  the  mu- 
sical score.  He  was  an  unmarried  man,  of 
about  the  age  of  thirty  years,  and  had  been, 
until  this  period,  a  hard-working  labourer  on 
his  father's  farm,  which  was  situated  in  an 
obscure  township  in  New  Hampshire.  His 
complexion  was  of  the  darkest,  his  face  ex- 
actly circular,  his  eyes  small,  black,  and  un- 
meaning, his  form  thickset,  and  the  joints  of 
his  principal  limbs  had  been  contracted  by 
nature  or  use  into  inflexible  angles  of  con- 
siderable acuteness.  He  defrayed  the  ex- 
penses of  his  board  and  medical  tuition  by 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  7 

labouring  agriculturally  the  half  of  every  day, 
for  his  teacher,  Dr  Saddlebags.  The  other 
half  of  the  day,  and  a  large  portion  of  the 
night,  were  industriously  devoted  by  our 
incipient  Esculapius  to  the  study  of  his  new- 
chosen  profession,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  evenings  which  he  occasionally  spent  at 
different  places  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was 
on  one  of  these  visits  that  he  found  means 
to  exhibit  some  imposing  specimens  of  his 
abilities  in  the  performance  of  sacred  music. 
And  having  suggested  that  he  had  often 
taken  the  lead  in  the  choir  of  his  native 
parish,  he  .  almost  immediately  received  a 
pressing  invitation  from  some  of  the  most 
active  of  the  singers  in  Waterfield,  to  place 
himself  at  their  head,  on  the  following  Sab- 
bath, and  thus  enable  them  to  supply  the 
lamented  vacancy,  which  existed  in  the 
apparatus  of  worship  at  their  meetinghouse. 
The  invitation  was  accepted.  That  quar- 
ter of  the  singing  seats  devoted  to  the  female 
sex,  was  filled  at  an  early  hour  on  the  next 
Sabbath  morning,  by  fair  occupants,  furnish- 


8  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

ed  generally  each  with  her  hymn  book,  and 
waiting  with  some  impatience  for  the  other 
moiety  of  the  choir  to  arrive,  and  for   the 
services  to  begin.     The  body  of  male  per- 
formers   gradually    assembled    at    one    cor- 
ner   of  the    building,    out    of    doors,     and 
discussed  several  particulars  relating  to  the 
important  movement  which  was  now  about 
to  take  place.     One  difficulty  that  staggered 
the  most  of  them,  was,  the  manner  in  which 
Mr  Ebed  Harrington,  their  new  precentor, 
should  be  introduced  into  the  singing  gallery. 
He  himself,  modestly  suggested  the  propri- 
ety of  being  conducted  by  some  one  of  the 
gentlemen  singers  to  the  spot.     But  besides 
that  there  was  not  an  individual  in  the  circle 
who  conceived  himself  clothed  with  sufficient 
authority,  or  who  felt  sufficient    confidence 
in  himself,  to  enact  so  grave  a  ceremony,  it 
appeared  to  be  the  general  opinion,  that  Mi- 
Harrington,  in  virtue  of  his  newly  conferred 
office,  should  march  into  church  at  the  head 
of  the  choir.     While  they  were  debating  this 
point  with  no  little  earnestness,  the  time  was 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  9 

sliding  rapidly  away.  All  the  rest  of  the 
congregation,  even  to  the  last  tardy  strag- 
gler, had  entered  and  taken  their  seats.  An 
impatient  and  wondering  stillness  mantled 
over  the  whole  assemblage  within,  and  Mr 
Welby  was  on  the  point  of  rising  to  an- 
nounce the  psalm,  at  the  hazard  of  whatever 
consequences  might  ensue,  when,  by  a  sud- 
den, spontaneous,  and  panic-like  movement, 
which  I  cannot  remember  who  of  us  began, 
the  tuneful  collection  without,  suspended 
their  debate,  and  rushed  in  a  body  into  the 
front  door  of  the  meetinghouse.  Part  of  us 
turned  off  immediately  into  the  right  aisle, 
and  part  into  the  left.  The  stairs  leading  to 
the  gallery  were  placed  at  the  end  of  each 
of  these  aisles,  at  two  corners  of  the  building 
within,  so  that  whoever  mounted  them  was 
exposed  to  the  view  of  the  congregation. 
With  a  hurried  and  most  earnest  solemnity, 
the  choristers  made  their  trampling  way  up 
these  stairs,  and  soon  found  themselves  in  a 
large  octagonal  pew  in  the  centre  of  the 
front  gallery.  Each  individual  occupied  the 


!0  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

seat  which  he  could  first  reach,  and  Mr 
Harrington,  without  being  offered  the  post 
of  honour  usually  assigned  the  leader,  was 
fain,  in  the  general  confusion  and  forgetful- 
ness  of  the  scene,  to  assume  about  four  in- 
ches of  the  edge  of  a  bench  contiguous  to 
the  door  of  the  pew.  Here,  while  wiping 
from  his  brow,  with  a  red  dotted  calico 
handkerchief,  the  perspiration  which  the 
anxieties  and  exertions  of  the  moment  had 
profusely  excited,  the  voice  of  the  clergyman 
in  the  pulpit  restored  him  and  his  fellow 
singers  to  the  calm  of  recollection,  and  fix- 
ed all  eyes  around  upon  him  as  their  legiti- 
mate guide. 

The  tune  which  he  selected  was  well 
adapted  to  the  hymn  announced.  Every 
body  remembers  Wells.  Mr  Harrington 
had  forgotten  to  take  a  pitchpipe  with  him  to 
the  place  of  worship,  and  there  was  accident- 
ally no  instrument  of  any  kind  present.  He 
was  therefore  obliged  to  trust  to  his  ear  or 
rather  to  his  fortune  for  the  pitch  of  the 
leading  note.  The  fourth  note  in  the  tune 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  1  1 

of  Wells  happens  to  be  an  octave  above  the 
first.  Unluckily,  Mr  Harrington  seized 
upon  a  pitch  better  adapted  to  this  fourth 
note  than  to  the  first.  The  consequence 
was,  that  in  leading  off  the  tune,  to  the  words 
of  '  Life  is  the  time,'  he  executed  the  three 
first  notes  with  considerable  correctness, 
though  with  not  a  little  straining,  but  in 
attempting  to  pronounce  the  word  time,  he 
found  that  nature  had  failed  to  accommodate 
his  voice  with  a  sound  sufficiently  high  for 
the  purpose.  The  rest  of  the  tenor  voices 
were  surprised  into  the  same  consciousness. 
Here  then  he  was  brought  to  an  absolute 
stand,  and  with  him,  the  whole  choir,  with 
the  exception  of  two  or  three  of  the  most 
ardent  singers  of  the  bass  and  treble,  whose 
enthusiasm  and  earnestness  carried  them 
forward  nearly  through  the  first  line,  before 
they  perceived  the  calamity  which  had  be- 
fallen their  head-quarters.  They  now  re- 
luctantly suffered  their  voices  one  after  an- 
other to  drop  away,  and  a  dead  silence  of  a 
moment  ensued.  Mr  Harrington  began 


12  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

again,  with  a  somewhat  lower  pitch  of  voice, 
and  with  stepping  his  feet  a  little  back,  as  if 
to  leap  forward  to  some  imaginary  point ;  but 
still  with  no  greater  success.  A  similar 
catastrophe  to  the  former,  awaited  this  sec- 
ond attempt.  The  true  sound  for  the  word 
time,  still  remained  far  beyond  the  utmost 
reach  of  his  falsetto.  In  his  third  effort,  he 
was  more  fortunate,  since  he  hit  upon  a 
leading  note,  which  brought  the  execution 
of  the  whole  tune  just  within  the  compass  of 
possibility,  and  the  entire  six  verses  were 
discussed  with  much  spirit  and  harmony. 
When  the  hymn  was  finished,  the  leader  and 
several  of  his  more  intimate  acquaintances 
exchanged  nods  and  smiles  with  each  other, 
compounded  of  mortification  and  triumph — 
mortification  at  the  mistakes  with  which  the 
singing  had  begun,  and  triumph  at  the  spirit- 
ed manner  in  which  it  was  carried  on  and 
concluded.  This  foolish  and  wicked  prac- 
tice is  indulged  in  too  many  choirs,  by  some 
of  the  leading  singers,  who  ought  to  set  a 
better  example  to  their  fellow  choristers,  and 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  13 

compose  themselves  into  other  than  giggling 
and  winking  frames  of  mind,  at  the  moment 
when  a  whole  congregation  are  about  to  rise 
or  kneel  in  a  solemn  act  of  praise  and 
prayer. 

The  greater  part  of  the  interval  between 
the  first  and  second  singing,  which  was 
occupied  by  the  minister  and  the  devout 
portion  of  his  hearers  in  a  high  and  solemn 
communion  with  the  Deity,  was  devoted  by 
Mr  Harrington  and  his  associates  above- 
mentioned,  to  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the 
Village  Harmony,  and  making  a  conditional 
choice  of  the  tune  next  to  be  performed, 
according  to  the  metre  of  the  hymn  which 
might  be  read.  When  the  time  arrived  for 
their  second  performance,  although  Mr 
Harrington  was  more  happy  than  before,  in 
catching  the  true  key-note  of  the  air,  yet, 
either  from  some  deficiency  of  science  in 
himself,  or  from  a  misapprehension  on  the 
part  of  those  who  sang  bass,  this  important 
department  of  the  choir  began  the  hymn  with 
a  note  which  happened  to  be  the  most  dis- 


14  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

cordant  of  the  whole  scale.  The  consequence 
was  dreadful  to  every  one  within  hearing, 
who  was  afflicted  with  a  good  ear.  Our 
Coryphaeus  interposed  his  authority  to  pro- 
duce silence,  by  emitting  through  his  teeth 
a  loud  and  protracted  hush  !  After  some 
little  difficulty,  they  succeeded  in  starting 
fairly,  and  carried  on  the  performance  with 
due  harmony  of  tones. 

In  the  afternoon,  Mr  Harrington  was  at 
his  post  as  settled  leader  of  the  choir.  It  is 
true  that  he  found  himself  surrounded  by 
only  about  half  the  number  of  assistants,  who 
had  attended  the  commencement  of  his  vocal 
career  in  the  morning.  But  no  one  had 
ventured  to  insinuate  to  him  his  incompeten- 
cy,  and  several  of  the  singers  charitably 
ascribed  his  mistakes  to  the  accidental  ab- 
sence of  the  pitchpipe,  and  to  the  modest 
trepidation  which  naturally  arose  from  his 
first  appearance.  His  principal  mistake  on 
the  latter  part  of  the  day,  was  that  of  select- 
ing a  common  metre  tune  which  ought  to 
have  been  one  in  long  metre.  He  perceiv- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  15 

ed  not  his  error,  until  he  arrived  at  the  end 
of  the  second  line,  when,  finding  that  he  had 
yet  two  more  syllables  to  render  into  music, 
he  at  first  attempted  to  eke  out  the  air  by  a 
kind  of  flourish  of  his  own,  in  a  suppressed 
and  hesitating  voice.  But  he  was  soon 
convinced  that  this  would  never  do.  Had 
he  been  entirely  alone,  he  might  in  this  way 
have  carried  the  hymn  through,  trusting  to 
his  own  musical  resources  and  invention. 
But  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  inspire  the 
other  singers  with  the  foreknowledge  of  the 
exact  notes  which  his  genius  might  devise 
and  append  to  every  second  line.  They, 
too,  must  try  their  skill  to  the  same  purpose, 
and  while  the  whole  choir,  tenor,  bass,  and 
treble,  were  each  endeavoring  to  eke  out  the 
line  with  their  own  efforts  and  happy  flour- 
ishes, a  tremendous  clash  of  discord  and 
chaos  of  uncertainty  involved  both  the  lead- 
ers and  the  led  together.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  this  dilemma,  therefore,  for  him  to  do, 
except  to  stop  short  at  once,  and  select  a 
new  tune.  This  he  did  with  much  prompt- 


16  THE    VILLAGE     CHOIR. 

ness  and  apparent  composure,  though,  that 
there  was  some  little  flutter  in  his  bosom, 
was  evident  from  the  circumstance  that  the 
tune  he  again  pitched  upon,  contrary  to  all 
rules  in  the  course  of  a  single  Sabbath,  was 
Wells, — which,  however,  went  off  with  much 
propriety,  and  with  none  of  the  interruptions 
that  had  marred  its  performance  in  the 
morning. 

There  are  many  of  the  thorough-bred  sons 
of  New  Kngland,  whose  perseverance  it  takes 
much  greater  discouragements  to  daunt  than 
befel  the  precentorial  efforts  of  Mr  Ebed 
Harrington  on  this  memorable  day.  He  re- 
garded himself  now  as  the  fully  instated  lead- 
er of  the  choir  in  Waterfield  ;  a  function 
which  he  inflexibly  maintained,  through  good 
report  and  through  evil  report,  sometimes 
amidst  almost  entire  desertion,  and  at  other 
times  with  a  very  respectable  band  to  follow 
his  guidance — until  his  professional  studies 
were  completed,  and  he  himself  removed  from 
the  neighbourhood,  to  plunge  into  some  of  the 
newly  settled  territories  for  an  establishment, 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  17 

and  introduce,  perchance,  the  arts  of  healing 
and  melody  together.  I  have  never  heard 
one  word  of  his  destination  or  subsequent 
success. 

The  musical  concerns  of  our  parish  were 
not  involved  in  the  same  embarrassment  after 
his  departure,  as  after  that  of  his  predeces- 
sor. Young  Williams  had  now  increased  in 
years,  skill,  and  confidence.  Nature  had 
destined  him  to  be  a  passionate  votary  of 
music.  He  was  scarcely  out  of  mere  boy- 
hood, before  he  grasped  the  violoncello — or, 
as  we  term  it  in  New  England,  the  bass-viol — 
with  a  kind  of  preternatural  adroitness,  and 
clung  to  it  with  a  devoted  and  ardent  perse- 
verance, which  very  soon  rendered  him  an 
accomplished  performer.  Every  leisure  hour, 
every  leisure  moment  he  could  seize,  was 
employed  on  this  his  favorite  instrument. 
The  first  ray  of  morning  was  welcomed  by 
the  vibrations  of  its  Memnonian  strings. 
Many  a  meal  was  cheerfully  foregone,  that 
he  might  feed  his  ear  and  his  soul  with  the 
more  ethereal  food  to  which  his  desires  tend- 


18  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

cd.  Often  too  were  his  musical  exercises 
protracted  far  beyond  midnight,  to  the  annoy- 
ance at  first  of  his  father's  family,  who  soon 
however,  could  sleep  as  well  beneath  the 
sounds  of  the  lad's  violoncello,  as  if  an  JEolian 
harp  were  soothingly  ringing  all  night  at  their 
windows.  As  he  sat  in  the  solitude  of  his 
chamber,  a  solitude  sweetened  by  his  own 
exquisite  skill  and  the  indulgence  of  his  fond 
taste,  he  regarded  not  the  cold  of  winter  and 
not  always  the  darkness  of  the  night.  He 
speedily  made  himself  master  of  his  darling 
science,  as  far  as  such  an  attainment  was 
possible  from  the  introductions  to  all  the  com- 
pilations of  music  within  his  reach,  from 
Dobson's  Encyclopedia,*  and  from  such 
other  appropriate  books  as  the  Waterfield 
Social  Library  and  Mr  Welby's  humble  col- 
lection of  miscellaneous  literature  might  sup- 
ply. His  performance  was  the  admiration 
of  all  the  country  round.  His  father's  house 
was  frequently  visited  for  the  single  purpose 

*  Dobson  reprinted  in  Philadelphia  the  Encyclopedia 
Britannica,  referred  to  in  the  text. 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  19 

of  witnessing  the  display  of  his  uncommon 
talents.  Most  willingly  did  he  exhibit  his 
powers  before  the  representative  to  Congress, 
or  Mr  Welby  and  his  family,  or  a  bevy  of 
admiring  girls,  or  a  half  dozen  ragged  chil- 
dren, who  were  attracted  from  their  plays  in 
the  streets  and  the  fields,  to  be  soothed  and 
charmed  and  civilized  into  silence  by  our  self- 
taught  Orpheus.  Now,  he  would  draw  tears 
from  every  eye  by  the  tremulous  and  com- 
plaining pathos  of  the  string  as  he  wound 
through  some  mournful  air.  Now  he  would 
make  every  soul  burn,  and  every  cheek  glow 
with  lofty  rapture  as  he  executed  the  splen- 
did movements  of  Washington's  March,  Belle- 
isle  March,  Hail  Columbia,  or  the  much  less 
admirable,  but  equally  popular  Ode  to  Sci- 
ence. Now,  by  a  seemingly  miraculous  ra- 
pidity and  perfection  of  execution,  he  would 
exert  an  irresistible  power  over  the  muscular 
frames  of  his  delighted  auditors,  putting  their 
feet  and  hands  in  motion  as  they  sat  before 
him,  and  often  rousing  up  the  younger  indi- 
viduals who  were  present  to  an  unbidden, 


. 


20  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

spontaneous  dance,  to  the  tune  of l  The  Girl  I 
left  behind  me,'  the  '  Devil's  Dream,'  or  an 
equally  magical  and  inspiring  combination  of 
notes  that  extemporaneously  flowed  into  his 
own  mind  on  the  occasion.  During  all  these 
scenes,  his  own  fair  countenance  was  rarely 
ever  observed  to  alter  in  the  least  from  a  cer- 
tain composed,  though  elevated  and  steadfast 
abstraction.  Occasionally,  however,  the  oc- 
currence of  a  plaintive  strain  would  throw  a 
kind  of  compassionate  softness  into  his  looks, 
and  some  sublime  movement  of  melody  or 
new  combination  of  harmony  would  fill  his 
rolling  eye  with  tears.  The  motion  of  his 
arm  and  the  posture  of  his  body  were  indes- 
cribably graceful.  To  some  persons  of  ex- 
travagant fancy,  he  seemed,  while  playing 
upon  bis  noble  instrument,  to  be  sitting  on  a 
cloud,  that  was  wafting  him  about  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  sounds  which  he  created.  Some- 
times the  viol  and  the  bow  appeared  to  be 
portions  of  himself,  which  he  handled  with 
the  same  dexterity  that  nature  teaches  the 
soul  to  exert  over  its  own  body.  Sometime? 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  21 

again  you  would  imagine  him  in  love  with  the 
instrument,  as  if  he  had  no  other  mistress  in 
the  world  to  fix  his  serious  and  impassioned 
looks  upon,  and  be  agitated  by  her  enchant- 
ments. For  several  minutes  he  would  lay 
his  ear  down  near  the  strings,  and  then 
throw  his  body  far  back,  and  his  eye  upward, 
while,  in  this  new  position,  his  head  kept 
time  with  a  gentle  motion,  and  with  a  sort 
of  unconcious  ease.  He  never  refused  to 
play  the  most  common  or  indifferent  air  ;  a 
circumstance,  that  resulted  partly  from  his 
good  nature,  which  would  not  suffer  him  to 
be  fastidious  or  disobliging,  and  partly  from 
his  own  concious  ability  to  make  music  out 
of  a  tune,  which  of  itself  had  small  preten- 
sions. Indeed  he  was  one  of  those  few  per- 
formers, who  array  in  a  new  and  peculiar 
dress  every  piece  which  they  attempt  to  ex- 
ecute. Written  notes  before  him  were  but 
a  skeleton,  which  he  not  merely  clothed  with 
a  body  and  animated  with  a  life,  but  into 
which  he  infused  a  soul  and  an  inspiration 
that  none  but  the  rarest  geniuses  on  earth 
can  cause  to  exist. 


22  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

Such  was  the  temporary  successor  to  Mr, 
or  now,  more  properly  speaking,  Dr  Ebed 
Harrington  in  the  government  of  the  sacred 
choir  at  Waterfield.  Charles  Williams,  as 
I  have  before  observed,  was  as  yet  too 
young  to  take  the  lead  in  the  melodious  de- 
partment of  public  worship,  when  that  inter- 
esting and  uncouth  personage  came  to  reside 
in  the  village.  But  it  is  very  questionable 
whether  the  pretensions  of  the  latter  to  his 
honorable  office  in  the  gallery  would  ever 
have  been  submitted  to  during  the  two  years 
that  he  remained,  had  he  been  destitute  of 
the  assistance  rendered  him  by  the  musical 
young  Crispin  whom  I  have  just  introduced  to 
my  readers.  Charles  had  been  almost  con- 
stantly at  his  post  as  leader  of  the  bass,  and 
performer  on  the  violoncello.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  on  a  fine  Sunday  morning,  late  in 
May,  or  perhaps  in  midsummer,  or  early  in 
October,  he  would  take  his  instrument,  and 
steal  alone  and  unperceived  to  some  retreat 
about  two  miles  from  the  village.  Here  our 
truant  genius  would  seat  himself  beneath  an 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  23 

oak,  and  try  the  effect  of  mingling  the  audi- 
ble sounds  of  his  viol  with  the  felt  harmony 
of  sunshine,  breeze,  and  shade  ;  interrupting 
for  a  moment  or  two  the  chirp  of  the  squirrel 
and  the  Greek  talk*  of  the  blackbird,  but 
then  again  stimulating  them  to  a  more  violent 
little  concert  in  company  with  his  own  instru- 
ment, and  the  long  ringing  note  of  the  grass- 
hopper, as  it  hung  suspended  and  motionless 
over  the  ground,  amidst  the  calm  glare  of  a 
burning  sun.  The  delicious  enjoyment  af- 
forded him  by  such  occasions  as  these  would 
have  tempted  him  to  very  frequent  indulgen- 
ces of  the  kind,  had  not  the  music  in  the 
meetinghouse  suffered  so  much  from  his  ab- 
sence, and  had  he  not  been  aware  that  such 
conduct  was  the  cause  of  considerable  un- 
easiness and  half-reproachful  regret  among  a 

*  What  schoolboy  has  not  listened  with  delighted  as- 
tonishment to  the  almost  exact  conjugation  of  some- 
thing like  a  Greek  verb,  which  the  blackbird  gives  him 
in  its  n^xa',  SI-SAW,  Trt-f.wJ. .'  Which  of  the  winged 
tribe  has  a  better  itlc  to  Mr  Gray's  compliment  of 
;  Attic  warbler  ?  ' 


24  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

large  portion  of  the  congregation.  Blessed 
influence  of  Christian  institutions,  and  of 
the  severe  forma  of  social  life,  that  check 
the  movements  of  selfishness  and  eccen- 
tricity, and  recal  the  thoughtless  wanderer 
back  to  the  course  of  duty  !  Who  can 
complain  at  the  comparatively  slight  sacri- 
fices which  they  enjoin,  and  at  the  contribu- 
tion to  the  common  stock  of  happiness  which 
they  demand,  in  return  for  the  protection, 
the  field  of  exertion,  the  inexhaustible  sour- 
ces of  enjoyment,  and  the  paths  to  the  attain- 
ment of  every  species  of  individual  excellence 
which  they  so  abundantly  furnish  ? 

On  the  elevation  of  Charles  Williams  to 
the  seat  of  leader  of  the  choir,  new  life  was 
infused  into  the  whole  vocal  company. 
Years  had  done  something  for  him  since  the 
period  at  which  our  history  commences,  but 
experience  and  the  opening  native  energy  of 
his  mind  had  done  much  more.  Implicit 
confidence  was  now  reposed  in  his  skill  and 
management  even  by  the  shyest  member  of 
the  choir.  He  had  occasionally  supplied  the 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  25 

accidental  absence  of  Mr  Harrington,  and 
had  been  constantly  consulted  by  that  gen- 
man  with  peculiar  deference  in  all  the  busi- 
ness, and  mystery,  and  apparatus,  incident 
to  the  due  administration  of  his  office.  It 
was  even  whispered  round  in  the  singing 
pews,  that  Charles  had  often  been  happily 
instrumental  in  correcting  or  preventing  sev- 
eral blunders  on  the  part  of  his  superior,  not 
unlike  those  which  I  before  recorded  as  dis- 
tinguishing the  outset  of  that  gentleman's 
career. 

With  such  qualifications,  and  such  a  repu- 
tation, Mr  Williams  entered  upon  his  dig- 
nities with  the  highest  spirit  and  the  best 
prospects  of  success.  The  choir  was  in- 
stantly replenished  by  all  the  old  deserters 
and  by  many  new  recruits.  Singing  meet- 
ings were  appointed  in  private  houses  on 
two  or  three  evenings  of  each  week  for  the 
purpose  of  practice  and  improvement.  A 
large  supply  of  the  (then)  last  edition  of  the 
Village  Harmony  was  procured,  and  the 
stock  of  good  pieces,  which  all  might  famil- 
3 


26  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

iarly  sing,  was  enlarged.  The  whole  num- 
ber of  performers  was  about  fifty.  This  was 
one  of  those  happy  and  brilliant  periods 
which  all  our  New  England  churches  occa- 
sionally enjoy  for  a  longer  or  shorter  term  in 
the  musical  department  of  the  sacred  exer- 
cises. I  will  not  contend  that  the  psalms 
now  went  off  with  much  science  or  express- 
ion. Charles  Williams  was  fully  equal  to 
the  task  of  infusing  the  best  possible  taste 
in  these  respects  into  the  choir  which  he  led. 
But  he  wisely  felt  that  his  authority  did  not 
extend  quite  so  far  at  present  as  to  warrant 
the  attempt  to  introduce  among  them  any 
nice  innovations  on  the  oldfashioned  manner 
of  vocal  performance.  He  was  not  their 
teacher  in  the  art.  He  was  only  one  of 
themselves,  and  all  he  could  expect  to  do, 
was  to  yield  himself  to  the  general  stream 
of  musical  taste  and  prejudice,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  such  little  improvements  as  he 
hoped  to  effect  by  his  sole  example,  or  the 
communication  of  his  ideas  in  private  to 
some  particular  friends.  He  accordingly 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR  27 

began  and  executed  the  most  galloping  fu- 
gues and  the  most  unexpressive  airs  with  the 
same  spirit  and  alacrity  that  he  would  have 
expended  on  the  divinest  strains  of  sacred 
music. 

Notwithstanding,  however,  these  slight 
unavoidable  deficiencies,  the  present  was, 
as  I  observed,  a  bright  and  happy  period  in 
the  meetinghouse  at  Waterfield.  There  \vas 
a  full  choir.  It  was  punctual  in  its  attend- 
ance at  church.  The  singing,  though  a  lit- 
tle noisy,  was  at  least  generally  correct  in 
time  and  tone.  A  new  anthem  was  gotten 
up  at  the  recurrence  of  each  Fast  and 
Thanksgiving  Day,  and  funeral  anthems  were 
sung  on  the  Sabbath  that  immediatly  suc- 
ceeded any  interment  in  the  parish.  There 
are  few  who  will  not  acknowledge  the  luxury 
of  such  a  state  of  things,  when  compared 
with  the  necessity  of  enduring,  Sabbath  after 
Sabbath,  a  feeble,  poor,  discordant  band  of 
singers,  or  listening  to  the  performance  of 
two  or  three  scattered  individuals  among  the 
congregation,  who  go  through  their  duty  with 


28  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

reluctance,  and  seem  not  so  much  to  be  sing- 
ing praises,  as  offering  up  substitutes  and 
apologies. 

Far  different  from  such  a  picture  were  the 
achievements  of  our  renovated  choir.  Every 
tune  which  they  performed  seemed  to  be  a 
triumph  over  the  preceding.  Charles  Wil- 
liams was  so  much  in  his  element  that  he  in- 
spired all  around  him  with  the  same  feeling. 

It  is  true,  there  were  some  peculiarities 
in  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  choir,  to 
which  a  fastidious  stranger  might  object.  In 
warm  weather,  Charles  assumed  the  liberty 
of  laying  aside  his  coat,  and  exhibiting  the 
perfection  to  which  his  sisters  could  bleach 
his  linen,  in  which  practice  he  was  support- 
ed by  about  half  the  men-singers  present. 
Another  exceptionable  habit  prevailed  among 
us.  As  soon  as  the  hymn  was  read,  and 
those  ominous  preluding  notes  distributed 
round,  which  come  before  the  performance 
of  a  psalm-tune  like  scattering  drops  before 
a  shower,  that  portion  of  the  band,  which 
sat  in  front  of  the  gallery,  suddenly  arose, 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  29 

wheeled  their  backs  round  to  the  audience 
below,  and  commenced  operations  with  all 
possible  earnestness  and  ardour.  Thus  the 
only  part  of  the  congregation  which  they 
faced,  consisted  of  those,  who  sat  in  the 
range  of  pews,  that  ran  along  behind  the 
singing  seats. 

It  was  somewhat  unnecessary,  moreover, 
that  each  individual  performer  should  beat 
time  on  his  own  account.  But  this  was  a 
habit  of  inveterate  standing  in  the  church, 
which  nothing  short  of  the  omnipotent  voice 
of  fashion  could  be  hoped  to  frighten  away. 
That  voice  was  not  yet  heard  to  this  effect 
in  the  singing  gallery  at  Waterfield.  But  it 
would  have  cost  many  an  occupant  there  a 
pang  to  resign  the  privilege  of  this  little  dis- 
play. Let  Mr  D'Israeli  and  the  editor  of 
Blackvvood's  Magazine  inspect  the  disposi- 
tions of  men  in  their  hand-writing.  But  as 
a  school  for  the  study  of  character,  give  tne 
a  choir  of  singers,  who  are  in  the  habit  of 
beating  time,  each  for  himself.  How  could 
the  most  superficial  observer  mistake  these 


30  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

characteristic  symptoms  ?    Here  and  there 
you  might  see  a  hand  ostentatiously  and  un- 
shrinkingly lifted  above  all  surrounding  heads 
like  the  sublime  and  regular  recurrence  of  a 
windmill's   wings.     Some   performers   there 
were,  who  studied  an  inexpressible  and  inim- 
itable grace  in  every  modification  of  motion 
to  which  they  subjected  their   finger-joints, 
wrists,  elbows,  shoulders,  and  bodies.     Some 
tossed  the  limb  up  and  down  with  an  ener- 
gy that  seemed  to  be  resenting  an  affront. 
Others   were  so  gentle  in  their   vibrations, 
that  they  appeared  afraid  of  disturbing  the 
serenity  of  the  circumambient   air.     Some 
hands   swept  a  full  segment  of  one  hundred 
and    eighty    degrees  ;    others    scarcely    ad- 
vanced  farther   than   the  minute-hand  of  a 
stop-watch  at  a  single  pulsation.     The  young 
student  at  law,  the  merchant's  clerk,  and  a 
few  others,  whom  fortune  had  exempted  from 
the   primeval  malediction   of  personal   toil, 
were  at  once  recognised  by  the  easy   free- 
dom with  which  they  waved  a  hand  that  no 
sun  had  browned  and  the  contact  of  no  ag- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

ricultural  implement  had  roughened.  If, 
as  we  have  seen,  some  of  the  singers  were 
ostentatious  in  wielding  an  arm  to  its  full  ex- 
tent, others  were  equally  ostentatious  in 
using  only  a  finger,  or  a  thumb  and  middle 
finger  joined.  To  the  honor  of  the  choir, 
however,  be  it  said,  that  there  were  several 
of  its  members,  who  performed  the  duty, 
which  was  then  customary,  of  beating  time, 
without  any  effort  or  affectation.  It  should 
also  be  ascribed  to  nothing  more  than  a  sense 
of  propriety  and  laudable  modesty,  that  a 
great  part  of  the  female  singers  kept  time 
in  no  other  way  than  by  moving  a  forefinger 
which  hung  down  at  their  sides,  and  was 
almost  concealed  amidst  large  folds  of  change- 
able silk,  or  of  glazed  colored  cotton  cam- 
bric. To  this  a  few  of  them  added  a  slight 
motion  of  the  head  or  body,  while  some  of 
the  married  ladies  openly  raised  and  lowered 
their  hands  upon  the  hymn  books  from  which 
they  sang. 

In  addition  to  the  foregoing  general  im- 
perfections, which  prevented  the  congrega- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

tion  at  Waterfield  from  witnessing  the  beau 
ideal  of  a  sacred  choir,  it  is  to  be  lamented 
that  there  were   others,  which  resulted  not 
from  common  custom,  but    from   individual 
peculiarities.     The  taste  and  knowledge  of 
music,  among  all  the   performers,  were  far 
from  being  uniform.     While  some  sang  with 
great  beauty  of  expression,  and  a  nice  ad- 
justment to  the  sentiment  of  the  happy  mod- 
ulations of  a  flexible  voice,  others  made  no 
more  distinction  between  the  different  notes 
than  did  the  printed  singing  book  itself,  or 
any  lifeless  instrument   that   gives  out  the 
tone   required  with  the  same   strength  and 
the  same  unvaried  uniformity  on  all  occasions. 
Nothing,  too,  could   be    rougher    than   the 
Stentorian  voice    of  Mr   Broadbreast,    and 
nothing  more   piercing  than   the    continued 
shriek    of  the    pale    but    enthusiastic    Miss 
Sixfoot.     I  shall  not  disclose  the  name  of 
the  good  man  who  annoyed  us  a  little  with 
his  ultra-nasal  twang,  nor  of  another,  who, 
whenever  he  took  the  true  pitch,  did  so  by 
a  happy  accident  ;  nor  of  another,  who  had 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  33 

an  ungainly  trick  of  catching  his  breath  vio- 
lently at  every  third  note  ;  nor  of  several  of 
both  sexes,  whose  pronunciation  of  many 
words,  particularly  of  hmo,  now,  &c.  was 
dreadfully  rustic,  and  hardly  to  be  expressed 
on  paper.  Jonathan  Oxgoad  sang  indeed 
much  too  loud,  but  that  could  have  been  for- 
given him,  had  he  not  perpetually  forgotten 
what  verses  were  directed  by  the  minister  to 
be  omitted  ;  a  neglect,  which,  before  he 
discovered  his  error,  often  led  him  half 
through  an  interdicted  verse,  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  the  worthy  pastor,  the  confus- 
ion of  his  fellow  singers,  the  vexation  of  the 
congregation,  and  the  amusement  and  grati- 
fication of  Jonathan's  too  goodnatured  friends. 
There  was  also  a  culpable  neglect  among 
the  male  singers  in  providing  themselves 
with  a  sufficient  number  of  hymn  books. 
That  it  was  not  so  on  the  other  side  of  the 
choir,  was  partly  owing  to  the  delicate  tact 
of  women,  which  never  suffers  them  to  vio- 
late even  the  minor  proprieties  of  time  and 
place,  and  partly  to  their  greater  attachment 


34  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

to  religion.  As,  in  our  New  England 
churches,  generally,  we  have  no  prayer 
books  to  serve  as  a  kind  of  endearing  bond 
between  the  public  and  domestic  altar,  the 
vivid  imagination  and  tender  affection  of  the 
female  singer  caused  her  to  cherish  her 
hymn  book  in  such  a  connexion.  The  more 
rough,  careless,  and  indifferent  habits  of  our 
own  sex  render  us  less  attentive  to  these 
sensible  memorials  for  the  heart.  Accord- 
ingly, in  our  choir,  among  the  men,  the  pro- 
portion of  books  was  scarcely  more  than  one 
to  four  or  five  performers,  so  that  you  might 
often  hear  some  ardent  and  confident  indi- 
vidual, who  was  stationed  too  far  from  the 
page  to  read  distinctly,  attempting  to  make 
out  the  sentence  from  his  own  imagination, — 
or,  when  he  despaired  of  achieving  that  aim, 
filling  up  the  line  with  uncouth  and  unheard- 
of  syllables,  or  with  inarticulate  sounds.  It 
is  strange  how  some  little  inconveniences  of 
this  kind  will  be  borne  for  a  long  time  with- 
out an  effort  made  for  their  remedy.  It  was 
not  avarice  which  caused  this  deficiency  of 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  35 

hymn  hooks  ;  far  from  it  ;  it  was  only  the 
endurance  of  an  old  custom,  which  it  occur- 
red to  no  one  to  take  the  proper  steps  to 
remove.  Was  it  not  thirty  years  that  uncle 
Toby  threatened  every  day  to  oil  the  creak- 
ing hinge  that  gave  him  so  much  anguish  of 
soul — and  threatened  in  vain  ? 

But  I  will  no  longer  contemplate  the  sha- 
dy points  of  my  picture.  On  the  whole,  the 
blemishes  just  described,  were  scarce  ever 
offensively  perceptible,  when  compared  with 
the  general  merit  with  which  the  singing 
was  conducted  and  continued  to  improve  for 
the  space  of  two  or  three  years.  Besides, 
our  supply  of  good  music  was  equal  or  supe- 
rior to  the  demand.  Be  it  remembered,  that 
we  were  singing  within  wooden  walls  to  the 
edification  of  an  American  country  congre- 
gation, who  sprang  unmixed  from  Puritanical 
ancestors,  and  not  beneath  the  dome  of  an 
European  metropolitan  cathedral. 

It  is  impossible  to  look  back  without  some 
of  the  animation  of  triumph  upon  those 
golden  hours  of  my  early  manhood,  when  I 


36  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

stood  among  friends  and  acquaintances,  and 
we  all  started  off  with  the  keenest  alacrity 
in  some  favorite  air,  that  made  the  roof  of 
our  native  church  resound,  and  caused  the 
distant,  though  unfrequent  traveller  to  pause 
upon  his  way,  for  the  purpose  of  more  dis- 
tinctly catching  the  swelling  and  dying 
sounds  that  waved  over  the  hills  and  rever- 
berated from  wood  to  wood.  The  grand  and 
rolling  bass  of  Charles  Williams's  viol,  be- 
neath which  the  very  floor  was  felt  to  trem- 
ble, was  surmounted  by  the  strong,  rich,  and 
exquisite  tenor  of  his  own  matchless  voice. 
And  oh  !  at  the  turning  of  a  fugue,  when  the 
bass  moved  forward  first,  like  the  opening 
fire  of  artillery,  and  the  tenor  advanced  next 
like  a  corps  of  grenadiers,  and  the  treble 
followed  on  with  the  brilliant  execution  of 
infantry,  and  the  trumpet  counter  shot  by 
the  whole,  with  the  speed  of  darting  cavalry, 
and  then,  when  we  all  mingled  in  that  battle 
of  harmony  and  melody,  and  mysteriously 
fought  our  way  through  each  verse  with  a 
well  ordered  perplexity,  that  made  the 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  37 

audience  wonder  how  we  ever  came  out 
exactly  together,  (which  once  in  a  while, 
indeed,  owing  to  some  strange  surprise  or 
lingering  among  the  treble,  we  failed  to  do,) 
the  sensations  that  agitated  me  at  those 
moments,  have  rarely  been  equalled  during 
the  monotonous  pilgrimage  of  my  life. 

And  yet,  when  I  remember  how  little  we 
kept  in  view  the  main  and  real  object  of 
sacred  music — when  I  think  how  much  we 
sang  to  the  praise  and  honor  and  glory  of 
our  inflated  selves  alone — when  I  reflect 
that  the  majority  of  us  absolutely  did  not 
intend  that  any  other  ear  in  the  universe 
should  listen  to  our  performances,  save  those 
of  the  admiring  human  audience  below  and 
around  us — I  am  inclined  to  feel  more  shame 
and  regret  than  pleasure  at  these  youthful 
recollections,  and  must  now  be  permitted  to 
indulge  for  a  few  pages  in  a  more  serious 
strain. 

How  large  and  dreadful  is  the  account 
against  numberless  ostensible  Christian  wor- 
shippers in  this  respect  !  And  how  decisive 
4 


38  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

might  be  the  triumph  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lics over  Protestants,  if  they  chose  to  urge 
it  in  this  quarter  !  They  might  demand  of 
us,  what  we  have  gained  by  greater  sim- 
plicity and  abstractness  of  forms.  They 
might  ask,  whether  it  is  not  equally  abomin- 
able in  the  sight  of  Jehovah,  that  music 
should  be  abused  in  his  sanctuary,  as  that 
pictures  and  images  should  be  perverted 
:  from  their  original  design  ?  For  my  part,  I 
conscientiously  think  that  there  is  more  piety, 
more  of  the  spirit  of  true  religion,  in  the 
idolatry  which  kneels  in  mistaken,  though 
heartfelt  gratitude  to  a  sculptured  image, 
than  in  the  deliberate  mockery  which  sends 
up  solemn  sounds  from  thoughtless  tongues. 
How  often  does  what  is  called  sacred  music, 
administer  only  to  the  vanity  of  the  perform- 
er and  the  gratification  of  the  hearer,  who 
thus,  as  it  were,  themselves  inhale  the  in- 
cense which  they  are  solemnly  wafting, 
though  they  have  full  enough  need  that  it 
should  ascend  and  find  favour  for  them  with 
the  Searcher  of  all  Hearts  ! 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  39 

This  is  a  rock  of  temptation  which  the 
Quakers  have  avoided  ;  in  dispensing  with 
the  inspiration  of  song,  they  at  least  shun  its 
abuses  ;  and  if  they  really  succeed  in  filling 
their  hour  with  intense  religious  meditation 
and  spiritual  communion — if,  from  their  still 
retreat,  the  waves  of  this  boisterous  world 
are  excluded,  and  send  thither  no  disturbing 
ripple — if  no  calculations  of  interest,  and 
no  sanguine  plans  are  there  prosecuted,  and 
no  hopes,  nor  fears,  nor  regrets,  nor 
triumphs,  nor  recollections,  nor  any  other 
flowers  that  grow  this  side  of  the  grave,  are 
gathered  and  pressed  to  the  bosom,  on  the 
margin  of  those  quiet  waters — if,  in  short, 
the  very  silence  and  vacancy  of  the  scene 
are  not  too  much  for  the  feeble  heart  of  man, 
which,  if  deprived  of  the  stay  of  external 
things,  will  either  fall  back  on  itself,  or  else 
will  rove  to  the  world's  end  to  expend  its 
restless  activity  in  a  field  of  chaotic  imagi- 
nations ; — if,  I  say,  the  Quakers  are  so  happy 
as  to  escape  these  perils,  together  with  the 
seductions  to  vanitv  and  self-gratification 


40  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

which  music  and  preaching  present,  then 
must  their  worship,  I  think,  be  the  purest  of 
all  worship,  and  their  absence  of  exterior 
forms  the  very  perfection  of  all  forms.  But, 
let  me  ask  of  thee,  my  heart,  whether  thou 
couldst  fulfil  the  above  severe  conditions  ? 
Wouldst  thou  no  longer  obtrusively  beat  and 
ache  beneath  the  external  serenity  of  a 
Quaker's  composed  demeanour  and  unmodish 
apparel,  and  voiceless  celebration  ?  Thou 
shrinkest  from  the  trial,  and  art  still  convinc- 
ed that  the  road  in  which  thou  canst  best 
be  trained  for  Heaven,  lies  somewhere  at  an 
equal  distance  between  the  bewildering  mag- 
nificence of  the  Romish  ritual,  and  the  bar- 
ren simplicity  of  silent  worship. 

I  have  long  doubted  whether,  in  the  pre- 
vailing musical  customs  among  our  New 
England  Independent  churches,  there  be  not 
something  more  unfavorable  to  the  cause 
and  progress  of  pure  devotion,  than  can  be 
charged  against  many  other  popular  denomi- 
nations. The  Methodist,  and  the  strict 
Presbyterian,  have  no  separate  choirs.  They 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  41 

have  not  yet  succeeded  so  far  in  the  division 
of  spiritual  labour,  as  to  delegate  to  others 
the  business  of  praise,  or  to  worship  God  by 
proxy.     1  have  often  witnessed  a  congrega- 
tion of  one  thousand  Methodists,  as  they  rose 
simultaneously  from  their  seats,  and  follow- 
ing the   officiating   minister,   who  gave    out 
the  hymn  in  portions  of  two  lines,  joined  all 
together  in  some  simple  air,  which  express- 
ed the  very  soul  of  natural  music.     I  could 
see  no  lips  closed  as  far  as  I  could  direct 
my  vision,  nor  could  I  hear  one  note  of  dis- 
cord   uttered.     Was  it  that    the    heartiness 
and  earnestness  which  animated  the  whole 
throng,  inspired  even  each  tuneless  individu- 
al with    powers    not    usually    his  own,    and 
sympathetically    dragged    into   the    general 
stream  of  harmony,  those  voices  which  were 
not  guided  by  a  musical  ear  ?  or  was  it,  that 
the  overwhelming  majority  of  good  voices, 
such  as,  I  presume,  if  exerted,  would  pre- 
vail in  every  congregation,  drowned  the  im 
perfect  tones,  and  the  occasional  inaccura- 
cies of  execution,  which  most  probably  ex- 
4* 


42  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

isted  ?  It  did  not  offend  me  that  they  sang 
with  all  their  might,  and  all  their  soul,  and 
all  their  strength  ;  for  it  was  evident  that 
they  sang  with  all  their  heart.  I  was  con- 
scious of  hearing  only  one  grand  and  rolling 
volume  of  sound,  which  swallowed  up  minor 
asperities  and  individual  peculiarities.  This 
was  particularly  the  case  after  two  or  three 
verses  were  sung,  when  the  congregation 
had  been  wrought  into  a  kind  of  movement 
of  inspiration.  Then  the  strains  came  to 
my  ear  with  the  sublimity  of  a  rushing 
mighty  torrent,  and  with  an  added  beauty 
of  melody  that  the  waters  cannot  give. 
The  language  was  still  distinctly  intelli- 
gible, and  the  time  perfectly  preserved. 
And  although,  when  I  retired  from  the  scene, 
I  could  not  say  how  expressively  this  choris- 
ter had  sung,  nor  how  exquisitely  the  other 
had  trilled,  nor  could  compliment  a  single 
lady  on  her  golden  tones,  nor  criticise  the 
fine  science  of  the  counterpoint,  yet  I  felt 
that  I  had  been  thrilled  and  affected  in  a 
better  way,  and  could  not  but  wish  that  what 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  43 

was  really  to  be  approved  of  among  the 
Methodists,  might  be  imitated  in  those  hap- 
pier churches,  where  religion  is  cultivated 
without  protracting  her  orgies  into  midnight, 
and  cordially  embraced  without  the  necessity 
of  delirious  screams,  and  apoplectic  swoons. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  thought  that  the  good 
old  Presbyterian  way  of  accompanying  a 
clerk,  or  precentor,  who  is  stationed  beneath 
the  pulpit,  in  front  of  the  congregation,  will 
most  generally  secure  the  true  spirit  and 
perfection  of  sacred  music.  Born  and  nur- 
tured an  Independent  as  I  am,  I  confess  that 
I  sometimes  feel  inclined  to  the  adoption  of 
this  opinion,  with  a  few  additions  and  modi- 
fications. There  is  certainly  an  advantage 
in  imposing  upon  a  single  individual  the 
business  of  leading  the  melodious  part  of 
public  devotion.  It  must  necessarily  con- 
strain the  congregation  to  unite  their  voices 
with  his,  unless  they  -are  totally  lost  to  all 
sense  of  the  proprieties  of  the  sanctuary. 
This  custom,  moreover,  must  exclude  those 
miserable  feuds  and  other  sources  of  inter- 


44  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

ruption,  which  will  always  to  a  greater  or 
less  degree  disturb  a  separately  constituted 
choir. 

But  in  conceding  thus  much  to  the  chil- 
dren of  the  Westminster  Assembly,  I  would 
beg  leave  to  be  strenuous  in  insisting  upon  a 
recommendation  that  may  appear  very  strange 
as  coming  from  a  disciple  of  John  Robinson. 
I  cannot  find  it  in  my  soul  to  dispense  with  the 
glorious  majesty  of  sound  with  which  an  or- 
gan fills  the  house  of  prayer.     In  the  tones 
of  this  sublime  trophy  of  human  skill,  there 
is  something  that  wondrously  accords  with 
the    sentiment   of   piety.      We    know   that 
martial  bravery,  love,  joy,  and  other  feelings 
of  our  nature,  have  each  their  peculiar  and 
stirring  instruments  of  sound.     The  connex- 
ion between  religion  and  the  organ,  too,  is 
something  more  than  fanciful.     Who  has  not 
felt    at   once  inspired  and  subdued  by  the 
voice  issuing  from  that  gilded  little  sanctuary, 
which  towers  in  architectural  elegance  over 
the  solemn  assembly  below,  and  seems  to  en- 
^hrine   the    presiding  genius    of  devotional 
praise  ? 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  45 

I  am  aware  that  even  the  united  aid  of  a 
precentor  and  organ  are  insufficient  to  check 
certain  tendencies  to  the  decline  of  good  sing- 
ing, which  may  insidiously  creep  into  a  whole 
musical  congregation  with  the  lapse  of  time. 
Tunes,  it  may  be  said,  grow  old,  and  weary 
the  ear  ;  wretched  voices  may  prevail  over 
the  better  sort ;  in  one  pew,  a  worshipper 
may  always  sing  the  tenor  part  in  a  voice  of 
the  deepest  bass ;  in  another  pew,  every 
psalm  may  be  screamed  through  with  one 
whole  note  out  of  the  way  ;  a  devotion  like 
that  of  the  Methodists,  which  often  seems  to 
make  them  sing  decently  in  spite  of  them- 
selves, must  not  be  expected  to  continue 
long  ;  a  fashion  of  indifference  towards  this 
department  of  worship  may  arise  and  prevail ; 
and  especially,  the  extensive  cultivation  of 
secular  music  in  private  families  may  render 
very  many  ears  so  fastidious,  as  absolutely 
to  frustrate  the  object  of  sacred  music  at 
church,  since  the  tasteless  and  indiscriminate 
clamour  necessarily  produced  by  the  voices 
of  a  mixed  congregation,  must  tend  to  excite 


46  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

in  the  more  refined  classes  a  disgusted  and 
indevout  spirit,  rather  than  the  sweet  and 
lofty  aspirations  of  choral  praise.  On  all 
these  accounts,  it  may  possibly  be  argued, 
that  our  later  ancestors  have  done  well  in 
withdrawing  from  the  general  congregation 
the  performance  of  this  service,  and  assign- 
ing it  to  a  select  choir,  who,  by  concentrating 
their  efforts,  and  reducing  the  matter  to 
something  of  a  profession,  may  keep  the 
stream  of  sacred  song  at  least  pure,  though 
small. 

Nearly  all  the  above  sinister  tendencies, 
however,  might,  I  apprehend,  be  counteracted 
by  the  application  of  a  little  care  and  system. 
To  prevent  the  repetition  of  old  tunes  from 
palling  on  the  ear,  a  new  one  might  occasion- 
ally be  introduced  by  the  clerk,  and  sung 
every  Sabbath  until  the  congregation  were 
familiar  with  it.  The  affliction  caused  by 
bad  voices  might  be  disposed  of  by  the  ap- 
pointment of  a  musical  censor,  or  standing 
committee,  whose  duty  it  should  be,  to  ex- 
ercise now  and  then  an  act  of  delicate  au- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  47 

thority,  acquainting  the  well-meaning  offend- 
ers with  the  fact  of  their  vocal  disability,  and 
requesting  from  them  in  future  an  edifying 
silence.  As  to  the  decay  of  devotion,  and 
the  increase  of  indifference  among  a  congre- 
gation, these  appear  to  me  to  be  far  from 
good  reasons  for  establishing  a  separate 
choir,  and  are  rather  proofs  that  such  a  choir 
will  effect  no  sort  of  good.  With  respect  to 
the  last  evil  which  a  select  choir  is  suppos- 
ed to  avoid,  the  fastidiousness  occasioned  by 
the  private  and  profane  cultivation  of  music- 
al taste,  I  know  not  why  a  whole  congrega- 
tion, or  at  least  all  the  efficient  voices  in  it, 
may  not  be  systematically  taught  good  church 
music,  and  the  best  and  purest  taste  be  made 
general  among  them. 

But  I  will  candidly  allow  that  some  of 
these  schemes  of  improvement  are  rather 
visionary  than  practical.  Sitting  at  home  in 
one's  office,  one  can  easily  devise  remedies 
for  existing  social  defects,  but  in  attempting 
to  put  them  into  execution,  the  science  of 
human  nature  is  found  to  be  ten  times  more 


48  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

embarrassing  than  hydrostatics  itself.  Some 
obstinate  pressure  from  an  unsuspected  quar- 
ter may  burst  over  the  feeble  mounds  which 
we  are  fondly  erecting  about  an  imaginary 
reservoir  of  beauty  and  tranquillity.  It  is  a 
very  enchanting  employment  of  the  mind  to 
draw  sketches  of  a  kind  of  abstract  congre- 
gation, where  every  one  present  joins  in  the 
prayer,  and  listens  profitably  to  the  sermon, 
and  keeps  constantly  awake,  and  takes  de- 
vout part  in  the  psalmody,  and  where  no  eye 
is  suffered  to  wander,  nor  attention  to  flag, 
nor  worldly  dreams  to  intrude.  But  where 
is  there  such  a  congregation  on  earth  ?  And 
would  even  a  Handel  succeed  in  tutoring  a 
mixed  audience  into  a  celestial  choir  of 
angels  ?  On  these  accounts,  I  am  not  dis- 
posed to  push  my  censures  or  my  native 
communion  too  far.  Perhaps  novelty  and 
imagination  have  done  a  little  in  recom- 
mending to  me  the  practices  of  other  church- 
es, and  if  I  were  familiar  with  the  whole 
history  of  their  musical  condition,  I  might 
tell  as  many  strange  stories  of  them,  as  I 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  49 

am  rehearsing  of  my  own.     I  am  not  suffi- 
ciently   read  in    Puritanical    antiquarianism 
to  know  whether  the  Independents  once  re- 
sembled the    Presbyterians    in  the  mode  of 
conducting   sacred   music,    and    afterwards 
found  it  necessary  in  the  course  of  time  to 
institute  distinct  choirs,  or  whether  they  on 
purpose    instituted    a    custom    diametrically 
opposite  to  that  of  their  rival  sectaries,  after 
the  fashion  in  which  these  last  had  themselves 
abolished  surplices  and  organs.     Neal  is  si- 
lent on    these  curious  points.     If  one    may 
judge  from  some  merry  traditions  prevalent 
in  New  England,  our  good  forefathers  had 
no  choirs,  but  sang    under  the   dictation  of 
one  and  sometimes    two  lines  at  a  time  from 
the  minister  or  a  clerk.     Most  of  us  have 
heard  of  singular    divisions  to    which   poor 
Sternhold  and  Hopkins   were  subjected  by 
this  custom.     Thus, 

"  The  Lord  will  come,  and  he  will  not 
Keep  silence,  but  speak  out, " 

used  to  make   perplexing   sense  to  the  pil- 
grims, when  given  out  to  them  by  a  line  at 
5 


50  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

a  time  ;  for  that  such  was  the  manner  of 
uttering  it,  I  have  understood  from  a  clergy- 
man who  learned  it  at  a  Massachusetts  Con- 
vention dinner  twenty  years  ago,  where  the 

agreeable  and  Orthodox   Dr set   the 

table  in  a  roar  by  relating  the  anecdote. — 
It  is  probable,  then,  that  experience  and  ne- 
cessity in  the  lapse  of  time  have  forced  upon 
our  congregations  the  present  universal  cus- 
tom of  assigning  to  a  few  individuals  the  task 
of  leading  the  praises  in  public  worship.     It 
might  now  be  dangerous,  or  rather  impracti- 
ble,  to  introduce  a  reformation.     If  imper- 
fections exist,  perhaps   they  are  a  choice  of 
the   least.     Yet   still  it  were  to  be   wished 
that   the  choir   might    not  be    regarded,  so 
much    as  it    is,  the  sole    medium    through 
which  this  portion  of  worship  is  offered.     It 
were  to  be  wished  that  our  audiences  would 
consider  that  body  as  leaders  only,  not  per- 
formers ;  to  be  followed   and  accompanied, 
not  to  be  listened  to  for  luxurious  gratifica- 
tion, or   fastidious  criticism,  or  as  an  eked 
out  variety  of  the  tedious  business  of  a  Sun- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  51 

day.  I  can  conceive  that  a  choir,  if  proper- 
ly instituted  and  administered,  might  be  ex- 
ceedingly useful  in  extending  and  preserving 
a  true  tone  of  taste,  in  keeping  up  a  good 
selection  of  sacred  music,  and  in  acting,  so 
to  speak,  as  the  teachers  of  the  congrega- 
tion, in  these  and  kindred  respects.  But  in 
the  very  duty  thus  prescribed  them  lies  their 
deplorable  danger  and  temptation.  They 
are  unavoidably  liable,  as  was  above  intimat- 
ed, to  resolve  the  matter  into  a  mere  pro- 
fession. In  the  study  of  sacred  music  as  a 
science,  and  the  cultivation  of  it  as  an  art, 
they  forget  its  ultimate  object.  Nor  could 
much  else  be  expected  from  the  narrowness 
of  the  human  mind.  Must  it  not  be  hard  to 
attend  to  the  thousand  little  circumstances 
which  a  skilful  performance  requires,  and  at 
the  same  time  to  keep  the  heart  strained  up 
to  a  pitch  of  due  devotion  ?  And  on  the 
supposition  that  by  practice  and  habit  we  can 
acquire  a  perfect  familiarity  with  the  pieces 
to  be  performed,  and  a  mutual  confidence 
can  be  obtained  among  all  the  members  of 


52  THE    VILLAGE     CHOIR. 

the  choir  ;  yet,  alas,  it  is  in  the  very  process 
of  cultivating  this  practice  and  habit,  that 
the  spirit  of  devotion  is  apt  to  evaporate, 
and  to  leave  us  admirable  performers  rather 
than  cordial  worshippers. 

This  state  of  things,  moreover,  has  its 
temptations  for  the  audience  at  large.  The 
more  beautiful  the  music,  the  greater  is  their 
inclination  to  listen  and  admire,  rather  than 
to  bear  a  part.  It  seems  a  kind  of  sacrilege 
to  let  my  indifferent  voice  break  in  upon  the 
divine  strains  which  are  charming  my  ear. 
But  the  real  sacrilege  is  in  my  refraining 
from  the  duty.  Probably,  about  the  most 
perfect  and  affecting  sacred  music  in  this 
country  is  that  at  the  Andover  Theological 
Seminary.  Yet  who,  in  listening  to  the  ex- 
quisite anthem  sung  at  the  anniversary  of 
that  institution,  does  not  find  himself  uncon- 
sciously betrayed  into  an  earthly  ecstacy  of 
weeping  admiration,  in  which,  on  analysis, 
he  is  surprised  and  ashamed  to  find  that  mere 
religion  has  but  little,  if  any  share  ? 


THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR.  53 

Such  always  have  been  and  always  will 
be  the  dangers  resulting  from  the  conversion 
of  taste  and  the  arts  into  handmaids  of  reli- 
gion. Perpetual  efforts  are  requisite  to  keep 
them  from  becoming  her  mistresses  at  last. 
I  appeal  to  the  consciences  of  hundreds  of 
congregations,  who  are  in  the  habit  of  sitting. 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  with  Epicurean  com- 
placency, and  silently  listening  to  the  music 
above  them,  as  to  a  gratuitous  and  pleasant 
entertainment.  I  appeal  with  more  confi- 
dence to  the  consciences  of  a  thousand  choirs, 
who  are  engrossed  in  the  anxious  business  of 
carrying  a  psalm  off  well,  and  are  distracted 
with  numerous  likings  and  antipathies  about 
different  tunes,  whether  they  do  not  common- 
ly feel  cut  off,  as  by  a  kind  of  professional 
fence,  from  the  devotional  sympathies  and 
sacred  engagements  of  the  congregation  in 
general.  Sharing  no  active  or  conspicuous 
part  in  the  other  services,  but  so  very  active 
and  conspicuous  a  part  in  one,  is  it  not  the 
case,  that  they  take  little,  if  any  interest  in 
the  former,  and  regard  them  rather  in  the 
5* 


54  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

light  of  a  foil  to  set  off  their  own  paramount 
achievements,  than  as  a  votive  wreath,  into 
which  it  is  their  privilege,  duty,  and  felicity, 
to  weave  an  humble  flower  ? 

Sorry  I  am  to  acknowledge  that  such  were 
the  predominant  feelings  in  the  choir  at  Wat- 
erfield  at  that  point  of  time  in  its  history 
from  which  I  have  been  led  insensibly  so  far 
away  by  a  dull  train  of  digressive  reflections. 
It  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  of  this  de- 
fective sentiment  may  have  been  owing  to 
the  circumstance  of  our  leader  being  a  gay 
and  rather  inconsiderate  young  man,  whom 
the  whole  of  us  were  constrained  to  admire 
for  his  musical  excellence  and  many  parts  of 
his  private  character.  Certain  it  is,  that 
Charles  Williams  had  no  other  holier  aspira- 
tion or  thought  at  that  time  than  to  acquit 
himself  with  applause  as  the  chief  of  a  vocal 
company.  In  every  other  respect,  his  exam- 
ple would  scarcely  be  recommended  on  the 
score  of  seriousness  or  piety.  A  little  knot 
of  whisperers  was  often  gathered  round  him 
during  both  the  prayer  and  the  delivery  of 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  55 

the  sermon,  who  began,  perhaps,  with  dis- 
cussing some  points  connected  with  the  com- 
mon business  of  the  choir,  but  generally  suf- 
fered the  conversation  to  stray  among  still 
less  appropriate  and  less  excusable  topics, 
until  the  occurrence  of  a  jest  or  witticism 
from  Charles  betrayed  them  into  something 
more  than  a  smile,  and  reduced  them  to  the 
necessity  of  separating  from  each  other,  in 
order  to  escape  violating  the  more  obvious 
decencies  of  the  place. 

Then  again,  it  ought  not  to  have  been 
Charles  Williams,  of  all  persons,  who  scrib- 
bled with  a  lead  pencil  upon  every  blank 
leaf  of  every  hymn-book  and  singing-book 
within  his  reach,  filling  them  with  grinning 
caricatures,  with  ridiculous  mottoes,  and 
with  little  messages  to  the  adjoining  pew, 
some  of  the  occupants  of  which  would  blush, 
when  they  found  themselves  glancing  with 
greater  eagerness  at  these  irregular  and  un- 
seasonable billets  doux,  than  listening  to  more 
edifying  productions  from  the  pulpit. 


56  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

And  adieu  to  the  composure  of  that  fair 
chorister  for  one  morning  at  least,  to  whom 
Charles  Williams  presented  a  bunch  of  dill, 
a  pleasant  little  herb,  resembling  caraway, 
and  common  in  the  gardens  of  New  England, 
the   taste   of   whose    aromatic    seeds   often 
serves  in  summer  to  beguile  some  forlorn 
moments  that  will  occur  to  many  attendants 
at  the  meetinghouses  of  this  blessed  land,  as 
well  as  elsewhere.     Not  that  a  gallant  at- 
tention of  this  kind  from  the  hands  of  my 
youthful  hero  occasioned  sufficient  perturba- 
tion in  the  mind  of  the  receiver  to  drown  her 
voice  and  prevent  her  from  performing  her 
part  in  the  musical  services.     On  the  con- 
trary, such  an  incident  generally  had  the  ef- 
fect of  inspiring  her  with  more  than  usual 
animation,  loudness,  and  expressiveness  in 
her  singing,  the  cause  of  which  could  be  con- 
jectured by  none  save  such   as  happened  to 
unite  to  an  accidental  observation  a  sagacious 
philosophy.     No  other  obvious  symptoms  of 
agitation  were  allowed  to  escape  her  watch- 
ful self-possession,  except  perhaps  neglect- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  57 

ing  to  keep  her  snow-white  pocket-handker- 
,  chief  folded  up  as  neatly  as  usual  by  the 
side  of  her  hymn-book,  and  an  inability  to 
recollect  the  text  when  she  was  examined 
by  her  decrepit  grandmother  at  home. 

Nor  were  these  favours  on  the  part  of  our 
leader,  in  general,  very  discriminating  or 
partial  with  respect  to  their  objects.  If 
Charles's  bass-viol  could  have  enjoyed  a 
posy  of  dill,  it  would  often,  undoubtedly, 
have  been  a  successful  rival  of  his  more 
conscious  and  susceptible  mistresses  for  such 
attentions.  The  time  had  not  yet  arrived, 
for  the  tenderest  of  all  passions  to  become 
also,  the  most  overwhelming  and  absorbing 
in  his  soul.  He  had  indeed  too  much  con- 
stitutional sensibility  not  to  find  on  his  hands 
a  succession  of  weekly  or  monthly  idols  of 
his  imagination  ;  but  at  the  same  time  he 
had  too  much  juvenile  carelessness  and  too 
triumphant  a  presentiment  of  many  exploits 
yet  to  be  achieved  by  his  genius  for  music, 
to  allow  any  very  deep  and  lasting  impres- 
sions on  his  heart.  Music,  praise,  and 


58  THE  VILLAGE    CHOIR, 

beauty,  were  to  him  equally  intoxicating 
subjects  of  contemplation  ;  he  had  not  yet, 
had  enough  of  the  first  two,  to  admit  of  his 
yielding  himself  entirely  up  to  the  influence 
of  the  last. 

From  the  few  sketches  I  have  already 
given  of  the  character  of  this  young  man,  it 
will  not  excite  surprise  in  nay  readers  to 
learn  that  his  parents,  his  friends,  and  him- 
self entertained  the  wish  of  changing  his 
present  sphere  and  prospects  in  life.  So 
much  notice  had  been  taken  of  him  in 
various  ways  ;  his  general  capacity  and 
activity  were  so  conspicuous  ;  and  there 
was  something  about  him  so  interesting, 
apart  from  his  eminence  as  a  young  musical 
performer,  that  it  seemed  to  be  almost  a 
defiance  of  Providence,  to  confine  him  to 
the  obscure  profession  of  a  sedentary  me- 
chanic. 

I  use  not  the  word  ignoble,  nor  any  other 
term  of  disparagement  or  contempt,  as  ap- 
plicable to  that  vocation.  I  am  too  sturdy 
an  American  for  that.  Happily,  in  our 


THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR.  59 

country,  we  have  scarcely  a  conception  of 
what  the  epithet  ignoble  signifies,  except  in 
a  purely  moral  point  of  view.  The  aristo- 
cratical  pride  of  Europe  accounts  for  this,  by 
insisting,  that  we  are  all  plebeians  together, 
and  of  course  that  distinctions  of  rank 
among  us  are  ridiculous.  Our  own  pride, 
of  which  we  have  our  full  share,  accounts 
for  the  circumstance  on  the  opposite  hypoth- 
esis, that  we  are  a  nation  of  highborn  noble- 
men. But  this  is  a  poor  dispute,  about 
names.  The  truth  is,  we  are  neither  a 
nation  of  noblemen  nor  plebeians.  How  can 
such  correlative  terms  be  applied  with  any 
shadow  of  correctness,  when  the  very  politi- 
cal relations  which  they  imply,  do  not  exist  ? 
It  is  using  a  solecism  to  call  Americans 
plebeians,  because  to  that  class  belongs  the 
conscious  degradation  of  witnessing  above 
them,  in  the  same  body  politic,  an  order  of 
men  born  to  certain  privileges  of  which  they 
are  destitute  by  birth  themselves.  And  for 
a  similar  reason,  it  is  equally  a  solecism  to 
regard  ourselves,  even  metaphorically,  as 
noblemen. 


60  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

Why  then  did  Charles  Williams  and  his 
friends  desire  him  to  emerge  from  the  calling 
in  which  his  youth  had  been  passed  ?  Oh, 
we  Americans  have  our  preferences.  We 
think  it  an  innocent  and  a  convenient  thing 
to  draw  arbitrary  lines  of  distinction  between 
different  professions  ;  otherwise,  the  circle 
of  one  man's  acquaintance  would  often  be 
oppressively  large.  It  is  a  pleasant  employ- 
ment, too,  to  clamber  over  these  distinctions 
in  life.  Perhaps  there  is  not  a  country  in 
the  world,  where  professions  are  so  often 
changed  as  in  America.  We  are  restless 
and  proud,  and  since  our  civil  institutions 
have  established  no  permanent  artificial  gra- 
dations among  us,  we  have  devised  them 
ourselves.  Yet  still  it  is  a  matter  which  we 
act  upon,  rather  than  talk  about.  No 
American  lady  would  dare  to  refuse  her 
neighbour's  invitation  professedly  on  the 
score  of  the  other  being  beneath  her  in 
society.  Yet  her  refusal  would  be  as 
prompt  and  decided  as  any  lady's  in  England, 
towards  an  inferior  in  rank. 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  61 

I  do  not  wish  to  analyze  too  minutely,  the 
aristocratical  leaven  among  us.  I  do  not 
exactly  understand  its  principle  of  operation 
myself.  Pedigree  it  certainly  is  not,  though 
that  perhaps  is  one  of  its  elements.  Wealth 
and  education  have  something  to  do  with  it. 
Different  vocations  in  life,  have  much  more. 
Various  degress  of  softness  and  whiteness 
of  the  hands,  are  perhaps  as  good  criterions 
as  any  thing.  Certain  sets  of  persons  do 
somehow  contrive  to  obtain  an  ascendan- 
cy in  every  town  and  village.  But  in  the 
present  state  of  society  in  our  country, 
this  whole  subject  is  extremely  unsettled. 
The  mass  is  fermenting,  and  how  the  process 
will  result  eventually,  time  only  can  decide. 
Probably  some  future  court  calendar  will 
rank  among  the  first  class  of  American 
citizens,  all  families  descended  in  lines, 
more  or  less  direct,  from  former  presidents 
of  the  nation,  heads  of  departments,  gov- 
ernors of  states,  presidents  of  colleges, 
Supreme  Court  judges,  commodores,  and 
general  officers.  The  second  class  may 
6 


62  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

comprehend  the  posterity  of  members  of 
congress,  circuit  and  state  judges,  clergy- 
men, presidents  of  banks,  professors  in 
colleges,  captains  of  national  vessels, 
leaders  of  choirs,  and  perhaps  some  others. 
I  have  no  curiosity  to  speculate  upon  inferi- 
or classes,  nor  to  determine  any  further  the 
order  in  which  far  distant  dinners  shall  be 
approached  by  eaters  yet  unborn,  or  future 
balls  shall  be  arranged  at  Washington. 

It  is  a  difficult  thing  to  say  precisely,  how 
much  my  hero  was  actuated  by  mere  ambi- 
tion in  his  wish  to  change  his  course  of  life. 
I  do  not  think  he  despised  his  paternal  em- 
ployment. He  had  not  much  reason  himself 
to  complain  of  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
in  his  own  native  village.  But  there  were 
two  strong  reasons  besides  those  before 
specified,  which  operated  in  his  father's  mind 
to  determine  him  on  the  project  of  dismissing 
his  son  from  his  present  occupation.  One 
was,  that  he  was  a  very  unprofitable  appren- 
tice. His  passion  for  his  favorite  art 
encroached  too  largely  on  his  time.  Around 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  63 

of  visits  and  frolics,  to  which  his  musical 
and  companionable  qualities  exposed  him, 
absorbed  the  latter  portion  of  many  an  after- 
noon in  preparations  of  dress,  and  the  form- 
er part  of  many  a  morning  in  sleeping  away 
the  effects  of  such  expeditions.  The  other 
reason  was,  that  it  seemed  to  be  cruel  to 
confine  the  lad  down  to  an  employment,  for 
which  he  had  no  inclination,  and  even  no 
mechanical  aptitude.  There  was  little  chance 
of  his  ever  procuring  a  generous  livelihood 
in  that  employment,  and  there  were  other 
professions  more  suited  to  his  excursive  and 
occasionally  bookish  disposition.  These 
would  have  been  sufficient  reasons  for  his 
father  to  make  the  experiment  of  some  other 
course  of  life  for  his  son,  more  conformable 
to  his  taste  and  character,  even  if  paternal 
vanity  had  not  whispered  into  his  ear,  that 
his  boy  was  born  for  very  great  things  yet ! 
In  New  England,  before  the  imposition 
of  the  embargo,  and  in  times  of  peace,  there 
were  two  ways  of  rising  very  high  in  the 
world.  The  one  was,  to  become  the  clerk 


64  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

of  some  wholesale  or  retail  merchant  in 
Boston,  and  the  other,  to  pass  through  a 
college.  No  aspiring  lad  throughout  the 
country  could  think  of  any  other  avenue  to 
distinction.  Charles  Williams  was  not  a 
lover  of  money  or  of  trade.  He  was  among 
the  very  few  youths  of  his  native  region, 
who  arrive  at  the  age  of  thirteen  without 
bartering  a  pen-knife,  or  at  that  of  nineteen 
without  cheating  or  being  cheated  in  the 
exchange  of  watches.  Accordingly,  though 
he  had  a  distant  relative  in  Boston,  who, 
while  yet  a  minor,  had  gone  four  times  every 
year  to  the  market  of  that  metropolis,  with  a 
cart  full  of  such  assorted  commodities  as 
were  produced  in  his  native  town,  and  was 
now  one  of  the  wealthiest  merchants  on  the 
Exchange,  Charles  obstinately  shut  his  eyes 
to  the  prospect  of  entering  this  gentleman's 
counting-house.  There  was  something  in 
literary  pursuits  much  more  congenial  to 
the  taste  and  habits  of  his  mind. 

With  all  his  follies  and  eccentricities,  he 
had  a  warm  friend  and  admirer  in  the  Rev. 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  65 

Mr  Welby,  who  was  for  sending  every  young 
man  of  the  most  ordinary  capacity  to  college, 
that  had  a  soul  sufficiently  large  even  barely 
to  meditate  on  such  a  purpose.  Not  that 
Mr  Welby's  object,  exactly,  was  to  swell 
the  list  of  liberally  educated  persons  belong- 
ing to  the  place  where  he  was  settled,  when- 
ever he  should  communicate  to  the  Massa- 
chusetts Historical  Society,  the  topographi- 
cal and  antiquarian  account  of  the  town  of 
Waterfield.  The  propensity  in  question, 
rather  seemed  to  be  with  him  a  kind  of 
weakness,  and  one,  too,  with  which  many  of 
his  profession  in  New  England  are  afflicted. 
Owing  their  own  importance  in  life,  and 
their  peculiar  opportunities  for  usefulness  to 
their  collegiate  education,  they  have  no  idea 
that  any  greater  blessing  under  the  skies 
can  be  conferred  on  an  unmarried  man  of 
whatever  talents,  and  at  whatever  age,  than 
causing  him  to  leave  the  plough  or  the 
workshop,  and  after  a  struggle  of  seven 
years  between  the  Latin  dictionary  and 
despair,  to  obtain  a  degree.  It  is  not  sur- 


66  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

prising,  therefore,  that  the  warm-hearted  Mr 
Welby  should  offer  to  become  Charles's  gra- 
tuitous instructor,  in  preparing  him  for  col- 
lege ; — an  offer  which  was  gratefully  ac- 
cepted. 

Although  our  hero  was  far  from  being  so 
apt  a  scholar  in  the  niceties  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  tongues,  as  we  have  already  seen 
him  in  the  science  of  music,  yet  the  novelty 
and  dignity  of  the  pursuits  which  he  had 
now  adopted,  the  definite  object  proposed 
for  him  to  accomplish,  and  the  shame  of 
abandoning  his  aim  in  defeat,  unitedly  prompt- 
ed him  to  undergo  one  or  two  years  of  pretty 
severe  application  to  study.  During  this 
time,  he  was  still  a  leader  of  the  village  choir, 
though  I  cannot  say  that  the  partial  change 
in  his  private  life  and  habits,  operated  in 
correcting  many  of  those  reprehensible  char- 
acteristics, which  I  have  before  lamented  as 
derogatory  to  our  singing-pew.*  And  al- 

*  I  had  some  thoughts  of  describing  a  few  of  the  ef- 
fects which  Charles's  new  mode  of  life,  and  new  top- 
ics of  consciousness  and  reputation  produced  on  his 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  67 

though  we  had  been  long  taught  to  anticipate 
his  departure,  yet  words  can  scarcely  repre- 
sent the  sorrow  and  dismay  with  which  we 
bade  him  farewell  on  the  Sabbath  before  his 
setting  off  for  Dartmouth  College. 

On  the  nest  morning1  at  daybreak,  a  few 
of  us  were  at  his  father's  threshold  to  shake 
hands  with  him  once  more.  He  had  already 
breakfasted,  a  ad  had  mounted  the  horse 
which  was  purchased  for  the  occasion,  to  be 
disposed  of  again  on  the  best  terms  possible, 
when  he  should  have  entered  college.  A 
huge  pair  of  saddlebags,  the  heir  loom  of  his 
family  for  several  generations,  hung  across 
the  horse  behind,  and  contained  some  chan- 
ges of  wearing  apparel,  together  with  his 
books,  and  various  articles  of  pastry  for  the 
road,  which  he  owed  to  the  care  of  his  sis- 
behaviour  in  private  company ;  but  the  sketch  might 
clash  a  little  with  a  picture  of  a  young  farmer  fitting 
for  college,  which  now  lies  by  me  in  an  unfinished  MS. 
history  of  a  country  academy  in  New  England,  and 
which  may  possibly  hereafter  be  presented  to  the 
public. 


68  THE   VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

ters,  and  some  of  their  female  friends.  He 
had  already  repeated  his  salutations  to  his 
moist-eyed  family  and  acquaintances,  and 
was  holding  the  reins  in  his  left  hand  ready 
to  start,  when,  at  a  signal  from  him,  I  reach- 
ed him  his  bass-viol,  enclosed  in  a  large 
leathern  case  made  by  his  good  father,  for 
the  purpose.  He  received  it  in  his  tremb- 
ling right  hand  with  a  look,  gleaming  through 
his  agitated  countenance,  which  seemed  to 
say,  I  leave  not  every  friend  behind, — and 
spurred  off  his  horse  up  the  margin  of  the 
river. 

'  And  who  was  the  next  leader  of  the 
choir  ? '  is  a  question,  which,  (may  I  humbly 
hope  ? )  these  memoirs  have  excited  suffi- 
cient interest  in  my  susceptible  readers  to 
propose.  With  great  diffidence  I  am  per- 
suaded to  answer  that  it  was  their  humble 
servant.  Who  or  what  I  am,  separately 
from  my  once  having  discharged  the  honora- 
ble function  just  mentioned,  it  is  of  no  sort 
of  consequence  to  know,  and  it  is  clear  from 
my  anonymous  title-page,  that  I  do  not  think 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  69 

the  knowledge  would  contribute  to  the  eclat 
of  my  humble  production.  If  any  lines  in 
the  following  portrait  of  myself  appear  to  be 
favorably  drawn,  let  not  vanity  be  ascribed 
to  the  act,  while  I  seek  to  hide  the  original, 
and  even  his  very  name,  from  the  public 
gaze. 

Previously  to  the  departure  of  my  friend 
Charles  Williams,  I  had  acted  as  player  of 
clarionet  to  the  choir  ;  not,  I  fear,  always 
with  the  greatest  reputation  ;  for  I  scarcely 
remember  a  Sunday  of  my  performance, 
when  my  instrument  did  not  at  least  once 
through  the  day  betray  itself  into  a  hideous 
squeak  as  involuntary  on  my  pact  as  if  there 
had  been  a  little  evil  spirit  within  the  tube, 
sent  there  to  tempt  and  torment  me.  At 
these  agonizing  moments,  I  would  cast  one 
glance  at  the  countenance  of  Charles  Wil- 
liams, and  finding  that  there  was  in  that 
image  of  native  civility  no  mark  of  fretful 
reprehension,  or  of  tittenag  infirmity,  I 
proceeded  in  my  part  ; — nor  do  I  know  how 
I  discovered  that  my  fellow  singers  were  not 


70  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

quite  so  composed  as  their  leader,  unless  it 
were,  that  while  from  alarm  and  mortifica- 
tion, my  face  was  reddening,  and.  my  perspi- 
ration flowing,  my  eyes  were  enlarged  from 
the  same  cause,  and  thus  extended  the  sphere 
of  their  lateral  vision.  But  I  am  no  optician, 
and  hazard  nothing  on  this  point  beyond  con- 
jecture. I  believe  it  was  instinct  that  pre- 
vented me,  on  such  occasions,  from  seeing 
so  far  as  into  the  adjoining  pew.  There 
was  one  face  there,  on  which,  if  I  had  ever 
seen  a  smile  approaching  to  derision,  I  know 
that  it  would  have  broken  my  heart. 

But  if  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  the  squeak 
in  my  clarionet  was  the  only  ridiculous 
thing  about  me,  and  was  probably  but  the 
more  amusing  from  its  striking  contrast  to 
the  general  gravity  of  my  deportment.  On 
laying  aside,  therefore,  this  instrument  of 
my  little  disgraces,  which  was  a  necessary 
step  towards  my  leading  the  choir  with  effect 
and  energy,  I  trust  I  had  no  enormous  dis- 
qualifications for  the  office.  The  authority 
of  Charles  had  been  sustained  solely  by  his 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  71 

transcendant  musical  talents  ;  mine,  I  felt, 
was  to  be  preserved  by  the  most  exemplary 
demeanour,  and  an  assiduous  attention  to 
my  duty.  I  could  only  boast  of  a  mediocrity 
in  musical  knowledge  and  vocal  execution. 
If  I  was  far  below  my  predecessor  in  accom- 
plishments requisite  for  the  office,  I  at  least 
avoided  the  mistakes  into  which  Mr  Har- 
rington had  been  often  plunged.  Until  a 
calamitous  concurrence  of  circumstances, 
soon  to  be  reheai'sed,  not  an  individual,  I 
think,  left  the  choir  during  my  administration, 
with  the  exception  of  those,  whom  death  or 
removal  out  of  town  subtracted  from  our 
number.  I  loved  the  office,  for  it  gave  me  a 
little  importance,  and  I  was,  at  that  time,  of 
no  great  account  in  the  parish  in  other 
respects.  Besides,  I  was  extremely  attach- 
ed to  public  worship,  and  to  all  its  hallowed 
decencies,  thinking  it  an  honour  to  exercise 
the  superintendence  over  so  important  a 
department  as  that  assigned  to  me.  With 
regard  to  punctuality  at  meeting,  (for  so  we 
call  church  in  New  England,)  the  minister 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

himself  never  outstripped  me  in  that  particu- 
lar. He  has  more  than  once,  on  a  stormy 
day,  without  commencing  service,  dismissed 
my  single  self,  together  wilh  one  other  pa- 
rishioner ,who  appeared  at  meeting  only  in 
such  weather,  and  came  then,  as  he  whimsi- 
cally alleged,  to  Jill  up  ;  and  often,  on  some 
of  our  terribly  cold  Sundays,  when  seven  or 
eight  worshippers  in  legging  would  well  nigh 
drown  the  preacher's  voice  with  the  prodigi- 
ous knocking  and  stamping  of  their  feet,  I 
was  found  alone  at  my  post  in  the  singing- 
gallery,  suffering  in  perfect  silence  the  ago- 
ny of  my  frost-bitten  extremities,  and  permit- 
ing  my  attention  to  be  no  further  diverted 
from  Mr  Welby,  thannow  and  then  in  watch- 
ing the  dense  volumes  of  congealed  vapour, 
that  were  breathed  out  from  a  few  scattered 
pews  in  the  almost  vacant  edifice. 

So  far  as  I  can  impartially  judge,  I  was 
one  of  the  most  peaceable  and  unpretending 
of  men.  I  gave  out  always,  without  the 
least  hesitation,  whatever  tune  was  suggest- 
ed to  me  by  any  individual  in  the  choir, 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  73 

sacrificing  with  pleasure  my  own  little  pre- 
ferences, and  what  is  more,  the  pride  of 
authority,  to  the  gratification  of  others. 
Perhaps  the  general  manners  of  the  choir 
at  church  were  improved  during  my  precen- 
torship.  Let  me  with  modesty  say,  and 
with  deference  to  the  shade  of  my  dear 
friend  Charles,  who  is  now  no  more,  that 
my  own  example  probably  contributed  to 
some  slight  amendment  in  our  body  after  his 
departure.  I  had  long  since  formed  a  secret 
resolution  in  my  breast,  that  no  old  man  in 
the  congregation  should  be  more  attentive  to 
the  services  than  myself,  and  I  carried  it 
into  effect.  This  naturally  influenced  a  few 
of  my  immediate  companions  to  adopt  a 
similar  deportment  ;  and  the  good  order  of 
the  rest  of  the  choir  suffered  at  least  only  a 
negative  violation  from  the  sleep  of  some, 
and  the  studies  of  others,  who  preferred  look- 
ing over  the  tunes  of  the  Village  Harmony, 
or  reading  the  everlasting  elegy  on  Sophro- 
nia,  or  amusing  themselves  with  the  inscrip- 
tions of  their  late  leader,  to  receiving  the 


74  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

benefits  which  might  have  been  derived  from 
Mr  Welby's  excellent  sermons. 

After  a  year  had  glided  away  very  nearly 
in  this  manner,  some  sensation  was  produced 
in  the  choir  and  congregation,  and,  ultimate- 
ly, some  disturbance  occasioned  to  my  own 
peace  and  happiness,  by  the  addition  of  a 
gentleman  to  our  number,  who,  on  several 
accounts,  had  no  small  pretensions.  He  was 
the  preceptor  of  an  academy,  situated,  if  I 
recollect  aright,  not  more  than  ten  miles 
from  the  town  of  Waterfield.  He  was  pay- 
ing his  addresses  to  a  young  lady  of  this 
last  mentioned  place,  and  therefore  seized 
on  the  opportunities  which  a  remission  of  his 
duties  every  Saturday  afternoon  allowed 
him,  to  visit  the  object  of  his  affections. 
The  Sabbath,  of  course,  was  spent  by  him  in 
our  village,  and  as  he  was  a  professed  ad- 
mirer and  performer  of  sacred  music,  and 
was  a  gentleman  of  liberal  education,  gen- 
teel though  forward  manners,  and  a  superior 
style  of  dress  for  a  country  town,  he  was 
soon  introduced  into  the  singing-pew,  and 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  75 

without  the  least  difficulty  found  a  seat  at  my 
left  hand.  Being  blest  with  a  happy  degree 
of  modest  assurance,  it  did  not  require  a 
second  invitation  for  him  to  assume  habitual- 
ly the  same  place  afterwards  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

On  the  very  first  Sabbath  that  he  joined 
us,  he  startled  me  a  little  by  requesting  that 
Old  Hundred  might  be  sung  to  a  psalm  which 
the  minister  had  just  begun  to  read.  I  told 
him  that  I  should  be  very  glad  to  oblige  him 
by  announcing  that  tune  to  the  choir,  but  the 
truth  was,  it  had  not  been  performed  in  our 
meetinghouse  probably  for  thirty  years  ;  — 
that  there  were  but  four  or  five  singers  who 
were  acquainted  with  it,  being  such  only  as 
had  chanced  to  hear  it  sung  at  home  by  their 
fathers  or  grandfathers,  and  that  those  few 
had  only  practised  it  once  or  twice  together 
and  in  private,  from  mere  curiosity  to  ascer- 
tain how  so  celebrated  a  piece  of  musical 
antiquity  would  sound. 

'  Oh,  if  there  are  four  or  five, '  replied 
Mr  Forehead,  (the  name  of  my  lofty  new 


76  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

acquaintance)  '  who  know  any  thing  of  Old 
Hundred,  by  all  means  let  us  have  it.  I  beg 
it,  Sir,  as  a  particular  favour,  and  will  give 
you  my  reasons  for  the  request  after  service.' 
My  prevailing  disposition  to  oblige,  and 
the  great  quantity  of  time  already  consumed 
in  our  conversation,  imposed  upon  me  now 
the  necessity  of  pronouncing  aloud,  as  was 
usual  just  before  beginning  to  sing,  the  name 
of  this  venerable  air.  No  sooner  had  the 
word  proceeded  from  my  mouth,  than  there 
appeared  to  be  a  motion  of  keen  curiosity 
among  the  congregation  below,  but  in  the 
choir  around  me  there  reigned  the  stillness 
of  incredulity  and  surprise.  All  the  elder 
members  of  the  flock,  I  could  observe,  look- 
ed upwards  to  the  gallery,  with  the  gleams 
of  pleasurable  expectation  in  their  countenan- 
ces. Of  our  well-filled  orchestra,  only  eight 
individuals  arose,  for  there  were  no  more 
among  us,  who  possessed  the  least  acquaint- 
ance with  Old  Hundred.  And  even  three 
out  of  that  number  were  as  ignorant  of  it  as 
those  who  continued  seated,  but  ventured  to 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  (< 

expose  themselves,  trusting  to  the  assistance 
they  might  derive  from  the  voices  of  the  oth- 
er performers,  and  from  the  score  of  the 
tune  itself,  contained  in  some,  though  I  think 
not  in  all  of  the  copies  of  the  Village  Har- 
mony which  were  present. 

The  psalm  was  sung  with  tolerable  cor- 
rectness ;  but  accompanied  with  such  a  fan- 
ning on  the  part  of  the  females,  who  were  all 
sitting,  and  such  a  whispering  among  those  of 
the  correlative  sex  who  were  unemployed, 
that  I  could  bode  nothing  but  disturbance 
and  unhappiness  for  a  long  time  to  come  in 
our  choral  circle. 

During  the  reading  of  the  next  psalm, 
while  Mr  Forehead  was  alarming  me  with  a 
recommendation  to  sing  St  Martin's,  four 
stout  acquaintances  of  my  own  pressed  for- 
ward and  whispered  with  an  earnestness  that 
carried  the  sound  over  every  part  of  the  edi- 
fice, *  Sing  New  Jerusalem  !  '  New  Jerusa- 
lem therefore  I  appointed  to  be  sung,  and 
thus  prevented,  as  I  make  no  sort  of  question, 


78  THE    VILLAGE     CHOIR. 

more  than  three  quarters  of  the  singers  from 
leaving  their  seats  vacant  in  the  afternoon. 

At  the  close  of  the  morning  service,  I  had 
the  promised  interview  and  explanation  with 
my  new  acquaintance.  It  seems  that  since 
leaving  college  he  had  been  reading  law  for 
a  year  in  an  office  at  one  of  our  seaport 
towns,  and  while  there,  had  occasionally  as- 
sisted in  the  choir  of  some  congregation, 
into  which  had  been  introduced  a  new  and 
purer  taste  for  sacred  music  than  generally 
prevailed  through  the  rest  of  the  country. 
In  that  choir,  as  he  informed  me,  no  tunes 
of  American  origin  were  ever  permitted  to 
gain  entrance.  Fugues  there  were  a  loath- 
ing and  detestation.  None  but  the  slow, 
grand,  and  simple  airs  which  our  forefathers 
sang,  found  any  indulgence.  Mr  Forehead 
assured  me  that  no  other  music  was  worth 
hearing,  and  what  seemed  to  weigh  particu- 
larly with  him  was  the  circumstance,  that 
the  slow  music  in  question  was  beginning  to 
be  in  the  fashion.  It  was  under  the  operation 
of  these  ideas  that  he  had  been  so  strenuous 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  79 

in  forcing  upon  our  choir  the  performance 
of  Old  Hundred  and  St  Martin's,  in  defi- 
ance of  our  helpless  ignorance  of  both  of 
them. 

It  appeared  to  ine  that  his  zeal  on  this 
point  was  carrying  him  too  far.  I  saw  in 
his  aims  quite  as  strong  workings  of  a  con- 
scious superiority  in  taste  and  of  the  fastidi- 
ous arrogance  of  fashion,  as  a  love  for  genu- 
ine and  appropriate  music.  I  could  not  but 
question,  too,  the  propriety  of  suddenly  and 
violently  forcing  upon  a  choir  and  congrega- 
tion a  species  of  music  to  which  they  were 
entirely  unaccustomed.  It  occurred  to  me, 
besides,  that  though  the  most  slow  and 
solemn  tunes  might  be  executed  with  good 
effect  when  sustained  by  the  accompaniment 
of  an  organ,  yet  it  was  scarcely  judicious  to 
confine  the  whole  music  of  a  vocal  choir  en- 
tirely or  even  principally  to  that  kind  alone. 
But  all  these  suggestions  were  of  no  avail 
in  convincing  my  opponent,  and  we  parted 
with  not  the  kindest  opinions  and  feelings 
respecting  each  other. 


80  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

In  the  course  of  a  month,  Mr  Forehead's 
arguments,  persuasion,  and  example,  wrought 
in  a  large  portion  of  the  choir  a  very  consid- 
erable change  of  taste  on  this  subject. 
There  were  some,  who  loved  novelty  ;  there 
were  others,  who  yielded  to  the  stranger's 
assurances  respecting  the  fashion ableness  of 
the  thing  ;  and  there  was  a  third  description, 
who  were  really  convinced  of  the  better 
adaptation  of  the  ancient  tunes  to  the  pur- 
poses of  worship,  and  had  a  taste  to  enjoy 
their  solemn  and  beautiful  strains.  All  these 
classes  composed  perhaps  about  a  moiety  of 
the  choir,  and  were  eager  for  the  introduc- 
tion of  the  good  old  music.  The  other  half 
were  extremely  obstinate  and  almost  bigoted 
in  their  opposition  to  this  measure,  and  in 
their  attachment  to  the  existing  catalogue  of 
tunes.  Disputes  now  ran  high  amongst  us. 
Most  of  us  took  sides  on  the  question  with 
an  inexcusable  warmth,  and  without  any  at- 
tempt at  compromise. 

I  know  of  nothing  more  unconquerable 
and  spiteful  than  the  bickerings  of  a  divided 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  81 

choir  while  they  last.  In  addition  to  all  the 
ordinary  exacerbations  of  party  spirit,  there 
is  a  most  unpardonable  offence  committed 
by  each  side  in  suspecting  the  good  taste  of 
the  other.  Thus  vanity  is  wounded  to  its 
deepest  core,  and  conscience  and  conviction 
are  fretted  into  a  fierce  perseverance,  which 
is  not  at  all  diminished  by  the  circumstance, 
that  the  parties  must  sit,  act,  and  sing  in 
the  closest  contact,  and  almost  breathe  into 
each  other's  faces. 

In  the  midst  of  this  unhappy  musical  com- 
motion, there  was  one  individual,  who  had 
the  good  fortune  to  remain  thus  far  entirely 
neuter.  It  was,  reader,  the  humble  historian 
of  these  transactions, — the  afflicted  leader  of 
that  agitated  band.  I  had  long  wished,  to- 
gether with  my  friend  Charles  Williams, 
that  a  better  style  of  music  might  prevail 
amongst  us.  But  we  felt  that  we  had  neith- 
er skill  nor  authority  to  effect  the  exchange. 
If  the  tares  should  be  torn  up,  we  knew 
that  the  wheat  would  be  liable  to  come  with 
them.  My  private  opinion,  as  well  as 


82  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

general  disposition,  led  me  therefore,  to  be 
as  quiescent  as  possible  amid  the  difficulties 
now  existing.  I  did  not,  as  I  believe,  es- 
cape all  censure  front  either  party,  but  I 
I'eceived  no  bitter  treatment  from  any  one. 
Due  deference  and  acknowledgment  still 
continued  for  some  time  to  be  paid  me  as 
leader,  except  perhaps  from  the  pragmatical 
stranger.  But  no  efforts  or  prudence  on 
my  part  could  prevent  the  explosion  which 
was  ultimately  to  ensue. 

When  it  was  found  that  Mr  Forehead 
had  sufficient  influence  to  introduce  a  few  of 
his  favourite  tunes  on  the  settled  and  cus- 
tomary catalogue,  and  that  the  matter  had 
proceeded  to  something  more  than  a  simple 
experiment,  the  admirers  of  fugues  looked 
upon  themselves  as  a  beaten  party,  and  took 
occasion,  when  two  of  the  obnoxious  airs 
had  happened  to  be  given  out  by  me  on  one 
Sunday  morning,  to  absent  themselves  alto- 
gether from  worship  in  the  afternoon.  My 
feelings  in  this  predicament  are  not  to  be 
described.  I  regarded  myself  as  a  principal 


THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR.  83 

cause  of  this  deplorable  feud,  and  lamented 
that  I  had  not  had  sufficient  strength  of 
mind  to  resist  the  encroachments  of  the 
active  gentleman  at  my  left  hand.  But  the 
standard  was  now  raised  and  war  was 
declared.  I  felt  that  it  would  be  ignomini- 
ous to  quit  my  post.  I  gave  up  for  a  time 
my  arguments  with  Mr  Forehead  on  the 
propriety  of  singing  slow  tunes  altogether. 
No  attempts  were  made  to  effect  a  reconcili- 
ation and  return  of  the  absenting  party.  It 
was  resolved  among  those  who  remained 
behind,  to  perform  no  other  music  than  such 
as  we  deemed  the  most  genuine,  and  an 
express  was  sent  off  by  the  first  opportunity 
to  purchase  thirty  copies  of  the  lately  pub- 
lished *******  Collection. 

In  the  mean  time,  however,  the  controver- 
sy had  descended  to  the  congregation.  As 
long  as  the  choir  had  kept  together  on  terms 
of  seeming  decency,  it  was  hardly  to  be 
expected  that  the  audience  at  large  would 
take  part  in  our  little  animosities.  The 
parish  would  never  have  undertaken  to  con- 


84  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIK. 

trol  a  whole  choir,  if  that  choir  would  have 
united  in  any  species  of  music,  however 
contrary  to  the  tastes  and  habits  of  those 
who  bore  no  share  in  its  performance.  But 
when  it  was  found  that  our  little  vocal  com- 
monwealth had  been  rent  asunder,  and  that 
so  large  a  division  of  malcontents  had  retired 
in  indignation  to  a  Sacred  Mount,  the  sym- 
pathies of  brothers,  sisters,  parents,  and 
friends,  were  at  once  excited,  and  musical 
predilections  were  enlisted  along  with  the 
ties  of  nature  to  swell  the  threatening 
dissatisfaction.  For  several  Sundays  I  re- 
mained firm,  supported  as  I  was  by  all  the 
ostentatious  influence  and  patronage  of  Mr 
Forehead,  and  the  zealous  cooperation  of 
his  partizans.  We  persisted  every  Sabbath 
in  singing  these  five  tunes — Old  Hundred, 
St  Martin's,  Mear,  Bath,  and  Little  Mai- 
borough,  unless  the  minister  varied  his  me- 
tres from  that  standard,  and  even  then  we 
were  prepared  with  tunes  of  a  similar  class. 
By  these  means  we  hoped  to  awaken  a  bet- 
ter taste  among  those  of  the  congregation 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  85 

who  were  averse  to  our  new  style,  and 
eventually  to  recall  a  majority  of  the  dissi- 
dents, who  we  trusted  would  become  con- 
vinced of  the  excellence  of  our  improve- 
ments, and  gradually  return  to  partake  of 
the  honour  and  pleasure  attached  to  them. 

But  our  expectations  were  disappointed. 
Our  triumph  had  a  date  of  only  about  three 
months,  and  was  even  waning  while  it  last- 
ed. We  could  not  force  the  likings  of  a 
prejudiced,  and  in  some  respects,  exasperat- 
ed congregation.  The  singing  in  the  meet- 
inghouse was  the  constant  topic  of  every 
private  conversation.  All  possible  ridicule 
and  contempt  were  thrown  out  against  each 
of  the  respective  styles  in  question.  All 
sorts  of  arguments  were  used,  that  reason, 
or  passion,  or  prejudice,  could  devise.  Till 
at  length,  I  verily  believe,  our  inclinations 
became  so  perverted  by  the  mere  operation 
of  party  feeling,  that  many  of  us  hated  and 
despised  the  venerable  air  of  Old  Hundred 
with  as  much  heartiness  as  they  did  the  toad 
that  crossed  their  path  at  twilight,  while 


86  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

others  regarded  the  generally  very  innocent 
tune  of  Northfield  with  the  same  abhorrence 
that  we  bestowed  on  a  snake.  Unfortunately 
for  the  better  side  of  the  argument  at  this 
time,  the  attachment  to  a  rapid,  fuguing, 
animated  style  of  singing  was  too  deeply  and 
extensively  seated  in  the  affections  of  the 
people  of  Waterfield,  to  be  eradicated  by 
the  impotent  perseverance  of  our  diminished 
choir.  Pew  after  pew  became  deserted, 
until  we  found  that  we  were  singing,  and 
Mr  Welby  preaching  almost  to  naked  walls. 
The  hoary  head  was  still  there,  for  it  loved 
to  listen  to  the  strains  which  had  nourished 
the  piety  of  its  youth.  A  few  families  of 
fashionable  pretensions  encouraged  us,  for 
.there  was  something  aristocratical  in  the 
superior  taste  of  our  newly  introduced  music, 
and  something  modish  in  its  reputation. 
Nothing  but  the  strongest  religious  feelings 
induced  a  few  other  scattered  individuals  to 
appear  at  meeting,  and  it  was  but  too  evi- 
dent that  full  three  quarters  of  the  usual  at- 
tendants remained  at  home. 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  87 

This  spectacle  produced  the  deepest  effect 
on  my  mind.  I  had  a  sufficient  sense  of  the 
blessings  of  public  worship  to  feel  and  know, 
that  they  must  not  be  sacrificed  to  a  mere 
point  of  musical  taste.  I  was  therefore  per- 
fectly willing  to  resign  all  my  biases  for  the 
sake  of  seeing  our  beloved  meetinghouse 
again  filled  with  its  motley  throngs,  and  of 
feeling  the  delicious,  though  perhaps  imagi- 
nary coolness  excited  by  the  agitations  of 
several  hundred  fans,  those  busy  little  agents, 
so  lively,  so  glancing,  yet  so  silent, — and  of 
hearing  the  full  thunder  of  all  the  seats  as 
they  were  slammed  down  after  prayer, 
though  Mr  Welby  had  frequently  remonstrat- 
ed with  earnestness  against  it, — but  much 
to  my  satisfaction,  remonstrated  in  vain,  for 
I  scarcely  know  many  sounds  more  grateful 
to  my  ear  than  this.  Whether  it  is,  that  it 
is  connected  with  the  idea  of  a  full  congre- 
gation, which  I  always  loved,  or  with  the 
close  of  the  prayer,  which  in  early  youth  I 
thought  insufferably  long,  or  whether  it  was 
originally  a  most  agreeable  diversification  of 


88  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

the  inaction  and  monotony  of  church  hours, 
I  cannot  tell,  but  something  has  wonderfully 
attached  me  to  the  noise  of  a  thousand  fall- 
ing seats.  And  this  attachment  you  will 
find  very  general  in  New  England.  Many 
a  minister  there  will  tell  you  that  his  attempts 
to  correct  the  supposed  evil  have  always 
been  ineffectual  ;  and  if  you  are  riding 
through  the  land  on  a  summer  Sabbath,  you 
may  observe  that  long  before  you  are  in 
sight  of  a  meetinghouse,  your  starting  horse 
and  saluted  ear  will  give  decided  testimony 
to  the  clergyman's  complaint,  while  all  the 
wakened  echoes  round  will  inform  you  that 
if  you  spur  forward  for  a  half  mile  or  more, 
you  will  be  in  season  to  hear  a  good  portion 
of  the  sermon,  though  you  have  lost  the 
prayer. 

I  was  unable  any  longer  to  endure  the 
destitute  appearance  of  the  meetinghouse, 
and  having  consulted  with  Mr  Welby,  who 
advised  me  to  make  whatever  sacrifices  I 
could  for  the  restoration  of  peace,  I  caused 
Jt  to  be  circulated  one  day  in  the  village, 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIU.  89 

that  on  the  following  Sabbath  I  should  re- 
turn to  the  kind  of  music  which  had  lately 
been  abandoned.  The  necessity  for  this 
measure  was  the  more  pressing,  as  I  heard 
it  murmured  that  a  town-meeting  was  soon 
to  be  called  for  the  purpose  of  securing  a 
mode  of  singing,  which  should  be  agreeable 
to  a  great  majority  of  the  parish. 

My  present  associates  and  supporters, 
indeed,  almost  to  a  man,  took  umbrage  at 
my  determination  ;  and  were  not  seen  in 
public  when  the  Sabbath  came.  But  I  was 
surrounded  by  all  the  choristers  of  the  other 
party,  and  the  meetinghouse  was  crowded, 
and  the  downfalling  seats  rebellowed  again 
to  my  delighted  ear. 

And  now  for  several  weeks  was  the  full- 
breathing  triumph  of  the  lovers  of  crotchets 
and  quavers  over  the  votaries  of  minims 
and  semibreves.  The  latter  faction  sullenly 
absented  themselves  from  the  singing  pew, 
and  generally  from  worship,  while  the  former 
revelled  amid  the  labyrinths  of  fugues,  be- 
lieving to  their  own  happiness,  certainly,  the 
8* 


90  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

order  of  consecutive  parts  to  be  the  sweetest 
of  melodies,  and  the  recurrence  of  consecu- 
tive fifths  the  most  delightful  of  harmonies. 
In  place  of  the  lists  of  ancient  tunes  above 
enumerated,  were  now  substituted  Russia, 
Northfield,  The  Forty  Sixth  Psalm,  New 
Jerusalem,  and  others  of  the  same  mint. 
The  name  of  Billings  was  a  sufficient  pass- 
port of  recommendation  to  any  air  that  was 
mentioned,  while  that  of  Williams  or  of 
Tansur,  was  sure  to  condemn  it  to  neglect. 
We  were  encouraged  by  the  looks  and 
voices  of  all  those  members  of  the  congre- 
gation who  were  beneath  fifty  years  of  age, 
or  if  any  such  declined  to  accompany  us 
either  with  a  hum  or  an  articulated  modula- 
tion, they  perhaps  testified  their  satisfaction 
by  the  visible  beating  of  a  hand,  whose  arm 
lay  along  the  top  of  a  pew. 

But  this  was  to  me  only  a  silver  age, 
compared  with  the  golden  reign  of  Charles 
Williams.  I  felt  that  my  taste  had  become 
much  confirmed  and  purified  by  my  recent 
study  and  practice  of  a  better  style  of  church 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  91 

mu^ic,  and  I  could  therefore  the  less  easily 
tolerate  that  which  I  was  compelled  now  to 
support.  By  far  the  better  half  of  the  choir, 
also,  in  point  of  musical  skill  and  execution, 
refrained  from  renewing  their  services,  and  I 
was  distressed  to  know  what  methods  I 
could  adopt  to  allure  them  back.  Even  my 
rival  and  annoyer,  Mr  Forehead,  I  should 
have  been  glad  to  welcome  again  at  my  left 
hand.  His  voice  had  both  power  and 
sweetness,  and  perhaps  the  only  defect  in 
his  mode  of  performing,  was  his  perpetual 
attempt  at  ornament  and  trilling,  a  defect, 
still  further  enhanced  by  the  circumstance, 
that  instead  of  trilling  with  his  tongue,  he 
always  attempted  that  accomplishment  with 
his  lips  alone,  being  the  veritable  original, 
by  whom  the  well  known  unhappy  change 
was  made  upon  the  word  bow  in  the  following 
distich. 

•  With  reverence  let  the  saints  appear, 
And  bow  before  the  Lord/ 

Nevertheless,  I  was  perfectly  willing  and 
desirous   to   enter   into  a  negotiation    with 


92  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

him  and  his  party,  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
curing, if  possible,  some  mutual  compromise 
and  reconciliation,  and  filling  up  again  the 
complement  of  the  choir. 

But  this  was  an  attempt  of  no  little  deli- 
cacy and  difficulty.  The  exasperation  of 
both  parties  was  too  recent  and  too  sore, 
immediately  to  admit  of  an  amicable  person- 
al union,  or  to  allow  the  expectation  that 
either  side  would  endure  the  favorite  music 
of  the  other.  Time,  however,  which  effects 
such  mighty  revolutions  in  the  affairs  of 
empires,  condescends  also  to  work  the  most 
important  changes  in  the  aspect  of  humble 
villages,  and  still  humbler  choirs. 

It  is  the  office  of  this  unpretending  narra- 
tive to  record  the  mutations  to  which  one  of 
the  last  mentioned  communities  is  exposed 
in  New  England.  Whether  the  train  of  in- 
cidents here  exhibited  be  a  specimen  of  what 
occurs  to  many  other  choirs  within  the  same 
region,  my  experience  does  not  enable  me 
to  decide.  Many  of  my  readers,  however, 
will  probably  recognise  in  these  memoirs  of 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  93 

a  single  collection  of  singers,  several  fea- 
tures common  to  all  others. 

I  have  often  thought  that  such  communi- 
ties are  a  kind  of  arena  for  the  exhibition  of 
some  peculiar  and  specific  human  infirmities. 
Every  new  combination  of  our  social  nature, 
indeed,  seems  to  produce  some  new  results, 
in  the  same  manner  as  each  species  of  veg- 
etables nourishes  its  peculiar  tribe  of  ani- 
malcules. I  take  it  that  our  National  Con- 
gress elicits  from  its  component  members 
certain  specific  virtues  and  vices,  and  cer- 
tain modifications  of  feeling,  passion,  and 
talent,  denied  to  us  mere  readers  of  news- 
papers at  home.  Where  but  on  the  floor  of 
the  American  Capitol,  would  the  peculiarities 
of  a  certain  member's  sarcasm,  and  of  another 
member's  sublime  statesmanship  be  generated 
and  developed  ?  So  in  a  church  choir,  there 
somehow  arise  certain  shades  of  freaks, 
certain  starts  of  passion,  certain  species  of 
whim,  certain  modes  of  folly,  and  let  me 
humbly  suggest,  also,  certain  descriptions  of 
virtue,  to  be  found  exactly  in  no  other  speci- 
mens throughout  the  moral  kingdom  of  man. 


04  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

May  I  fondly  hope,  that  these  desultory 
delineations,  intermingled  though  they  are 
with  intrusive  speculations,  and  superficial 
efforts  at  philosophizing,  may  at  least  prove 
corrective  of  kindred  defects,  if  such  any 
where  exist,  with  those  which  are  here  ex- 
posed ?  A  mirror  sometimes  shocks  the  child 
out  of  a  passion  of  whose  deformity  he  could 
not  be  convinced  except  by  its  disgusting 
effects  on  his  own  face.  And  if  the  perusal 
of  these  pages,  which  have  been  too  care- 
lessly thrown  together,  in  order  to  indulge 
some  juvenile  recollections,  and  to  sooth 
some  painful,  heavy  hours,  be  instrumental 
in  correcting  any  imperfections  to  which  our 
church-choirs  are  liable,  I  shall  feel  more 
than  repaid  for  my  anxiety  in  undertaking 
the  perilous  enterprise  of  authorship.  But 
let  us  be  moving  forward. 

In  a  very  few  months,  negotiations  were 
entered  into,  with  the  body  of  the  other  par- 
ty, of  whom  some  half  dozen  individuals  of 
the  least  zealous  had  from  time  to  time 
returned,  and  given  in  their  adhesion  to  the 


THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR.  95 

ruling  powers,  The  truth  was,  that  on  our 
part,  we  felt  extremely  the  want  of  instru- 
mental music,  and  a  few  excellent  voices  on 
the  treble.  After  Charles  Williams  had 
left  us,  a  tolerable  bass-viol  was  played  by 
an  elderly  storekeeper,  a  bachelor,  who 
had  formerly  assisted  the  choir  several  years 
with  that  instrument,  but  had  resigned  it  as 
soon  as  Charles  became  prepared  to  supply 
his  place.  This  gentleman,  with  his  clerk, 
who  played  a  fine  flute,  had  participated  in 
the  dudgeon  of  the  lovers  of  ancient  melody. 
But  nearly  all  of  them  now  wished  to  return, 
conscious,  undoubtedly,  of  the  improvement 
which  it  was  truly  in  their  power  to  contrib- 
ute to  our  performances,  and  unwilling  that 
their  talents  should  any  longer  be  hidden  in 
a  napkin. 

The  terms  of  reconciliation  and  reunion 
were  settled  in  the  following  manner.  As 
our  performances  were  required  regularly 
five  times  on  a  Sabbath,  it  was  agreed  that 
the  arrangement  of  tunes  throughout  the 
day  should  be  two  fugues,  two  of  the  slow 


96  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

ancient  airs,  and  one  of  a  different  descrip- 
tion from  either.  Neither  party  could  well 
object  to  airs  of  a  rapid  and  animated  move- 
ment, in  which  all  the  parts  continued  unin- 
terruptedly to  the  close,  as  in  the  case  with 
Wells,  Windham,  Virginia,  and  many  oth- 
ers. Another  class  of  tunes,  also,  were 
very  general  favourites,  though  they  avoided 
both  extremes  that  were  the  bones  of  con- 
tention among  us.  I  allude  to  those,  in 
which  the  third  line  is  a  duett  between  the 
bass  and  treble,  of  which  St  Sebastian's  is  a 
well-known  beautiful  instance. 

For  some  time,  we  proceeded  together  in 
this  new  arrangement  with  as  little  interrup- 
tion as  could  be  well  expected  from  existing 
circumstances.  A  very  few  of  the  most 
obstinate  and  paltry  minded,  of  each  side, 
held  out  indeed  for  longer  or  shorter  periods, 
and  one  or  two  perhaps  never  returned  till  a 
grand  revolution  of  the  whole  corps  to  be 
described  hereafter,  should  our  history  ever 
reach  a  second  part.  For  several  Sundays, 
also,  four  or  five  Guelphs  would  contemptu- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  97 

ously  sit  in  perfect  silence  during  the  singing 
of  the  Ghibeline  tunes,  and  as  many  Ghibe- 
lines  would  return  the  compliment  during 
the  singing  of  the  Guelph  tunes.  And  even 
when  they  were  compelled  to  abandon  such 
indecent  deportment  by  the  censures  to 
which  it  exposed  them,  to  my  certain  knowl- 
edge they  were  silent  while  standing  up  with 
the  choir,  or  moved  their  lips  in  a  whisper, 
or  sang  so  very  low,  as  to  give  no  sort  of 
assistance  to  the  rest. 

However,  these  little  factious  symptoms 
gradually  disappeared,  and  I  had  at  length 
the  happiness  of  finding  myself  at  the  head 
of  my  musical  flock,  with  the  embers  of 
former  grievances  well  nigh  asleep,  and  with 
a  decided  advantage  gained  in  our  taste  and 
selection  of  tunes.  But  what  struggles  and 
dangers  had  been  incurred  in  order  to  arrive 
at  this  improved  condition  !  I  can  resort  to 
no  illustration  of  these  events  more  apt  than 
the  kingdom  of  France,  which,  as  some  imag- 
ine, derives  a  faint  compensation  for  the  hor- 
rors of  the  revolution,  from  the  amendments 
9 


98  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

effected  in  some  of  its  circumstances  and 
institutions,  that  neither  despotism,  nor  su- 
perstition, can  in  future  hope  to  wipe  away. 
Yet,  amid  these  various  concussions,  it  will 
not  be  surprising  that  my  own  authority  should 
have  been  completely  undermined.  It  is 
scarce  supposablethat  I  could  be  a  very  decid- 
ed favourite  with  either  of  the  parties  who 
had  frowned  so  awfully  upon  each  other,  since 
I  had  in  a  manner  sided  with  both  of  them. 
Although,  therefore,  I  was  most  scrupulously 
impartial  in  selecting  such  descriptions  of 
tunes  as  exactly  conformed  to  the  terms  of 
the  treaty,  yet  there  was  not  a  member  of 
the  choir,  whose  friendship  was  sufficiently 
zealous  to  join  me  in  resisting  the  new 
encroachments  of  Mr  Forehead.  While 
that  gentleman  confined  himself  to  a  general 
selection  equally  impartial  with  mine,  not  a 
spectator  thought  of  murmuring,  when  he 
suggested,  as  he  constantly  did,  this  and 
that  particular  tune  for  any  given  psalm  or 
hymn  ;  and  suggested  it,  too,  with  such  an 
air  of  certainty  and  confidence,  that  I  was 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  99 

not  the  man  to  hold  up  my  head,  and  say  at 
a  single  glance,  '  Sir,  I  am  on  my  own  ground 
here.'  When  he  found  that  his  suggestions 
were  in  this  way  constantly  adopted,  it  was 
an  easy  and  natural  transition  for  him  next 
to  whisper  round  of  his  own  accord,  to  the 
few  who  sat  near  him,  the  name  of  the  tune 
to  be  sung,  and  to  whisper  it  also  to  me  with 
the  same  non-chalance,  that  I  might  proclaim 
it  to  the  choir  as  usual.  And  then,  with  as 
much  ease  and  as  calm  a  face  as  Napoleon 
wore  when  he  stept  from  the  consular  chair 
to  the  imperial  throne,  it  only  remained  for 
him  to  assume  the  precentorship  at  once,  by 
uttering  aloud,  one  Sunday,  to  my  amaze- 
ment, the  name  of  the  first  tune  in  the 
morning,  and  continuing  the  practice  from 
that  moment  until  his  departure  from  the 
choir  and  the  neighbourhood. 

Thus,  my  own  occupation  was  gone.  On 
the  afternoon  of  the  morning  just  mentioned, 
I  entered  the  singing  pew,  and  took  my  seat 
at  some  distance  from  the  post  of  honour, 
which  I  felt  was  no  longer  mine.  It  was  of 


100  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

no  use  to  appeal  to  the  members  of  the 
choir  in  my  defence.  I  had  suffered  en- 
croachment after  encroachment  to  be  gradu- 
ally made  upon  my  authority,  until  the  last 
act  of  usurpation  was  scarcely  perceptible. 
I  knew  that  I  could  have  no  enthusiastic 
supporters  of  my  rights.  I  had  not  one 
personal  qualification  by  which  to  balance 
the  imposing  and  overbearing  accomplish- 
ments of  my  competitor.  I  dare  say  all  the 
choir  and  all  the  congregation  thought  him 
the  best  leader,  as  I  confess,  on  the  whole, 
he  was.  Probably  the  precise  circumstan- 
ces under  which  the  exchange  was  made, 
were  not  discerned  by  many  among  them. 
Perhaps  they  might  have  supposed,  that  my 
resignation  and  transfer  of  the  pitchpipe 
were  voluntary.  Indeed  I  half  hope  they 
did  suppose  so.  But  no — I  am  willing  they 
should  have  known  the  whole  truth.  But 
let  the  matter  rest.  It  is  an  era  in  my  biog- 
raphy which  I  do  not  love  to  contemplate. 

I  am  not  ashamed,  however,  that  I  con- 
tinued in  the  choir.     I  am  certain  it  was 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  101 

not  meanness  which  kept  me  there,  though 
some  at  first  sight  may  so  interpret  it.  It 
was  a  struggle  between  pride  and  duty,  in 
which  duty  won  the  victory — and  though 
pride  had  indignation  for  its  ally,  yet  my 
devoted  and  disinterested  love  for  those 
singing  seats,  came  up  to  the  assistance  of 
duty,  and  decided  the  contest. 

Besides,  why  should  I  desert  those  seats  ? 
Should  I  have  felt  happier, — could  I  have 
concealed  my  mortification  better,  by  sitting 
with  the  family  below  ?  By  no  means.  I 
might  as  well  remain  where  I  was,  and  bury 
my  feelings  in  the  flood  of  sound  with  which 
my  own  tremulous  voice  was  mingled. 

For  I  considered,  that  it  was  always  my 
peculiar  lot,  wherever  I  was,  and  whatever  I 
did,  to  have  some  mortification  or  other  on 
my  hands,  or,  I  would  say,  on  my  heart. 
The  squeak  of  my  clarionet  was  but  an  epit- 
ome of  a  certain  note  that  has  occasionally 
grated  the  whole  tenor  of  my  fortune  and 
life.  I  had  a  disaffected  mother-in-law. 
My  school  master  was  partial  to  my  rival.  I 
9* 


102  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

was  bound  an  apprentice  to  an  uncongenial 
employment,  which  I  could  not  abandon  un- 
til I  was  free.    I  was  once  jilted.     How  I 
was  superseded  in  the  choir,  has  been  seen 
above.     I  always  try  to  do  my  best,  but  am 
liable  to  overdo.     I  have  been  disinterested 
and  generous  to  my  friends,  till  I  have  spoil- 
ed them,  and  they  have  sometimes  become 
my  foes  from  expecting  more  than  I  could 
or  ought  to  perform.     The  same  out-of-the- 
way  note,  I  acknowledge,  attaches  itself  to 
most    of  my  compositions.     I  have  written 
some  things  in  these  very  pages  of  a  kin 
with  that  portentous  strain  of  my  instrument  ; 
but  I  could  not  help  it ;  and  I  expect,  that 
with  some  praises  that  may  be  vouchsafed  to 
this  production,  other  things  will  be  said  of 
it  that  will  cut  me  to  the  very  heart.     But  I 
will  try  to  be  prepared  for  them. 

And  now,  reader,  you  may  in  some  meas- 
ure understand  how  I  could  endure  to  haunt, 
like  a  ghost,  the  scene  of  my  former  triumphs. 
Remember,  however,  that  I  met  no  scorn 
on  the  occasion.  Not  a  soul  was  there,  who 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  103 

would  not  have  regretted  my  absence.  A 
gentle  and  quiet  exchange  of  leaders  had 
been  effected,  and  there  the  matter  rested 
in  every  mind.  The  most  direct  way  by 
which  I  could  have  caused  it  to  redound  to 
my  ill-reputation  and  discomfort,  would  have 
been,  to  make  a  stir  about  it.  Prudence, 
therefore,  if  nothing  else,  might  whisper  me 
the  proper  course  to  be  pursued. 

Thus  a  fifth  leader  of  the  choir  at  Water- 
field  is  duly  and  regularly  recorded  on  these 
veracious  annals.     His  reign,  like  that  of 
his  predecessor,  was  stormy  and  unfortunate. 
For  some  weeks,  Mr  Forehead  adhered  in- 
violably to  the  articles  of  union  touching  the 
selection  of  particular  kinds  of  music.     But 
it  is  the  natural  tendency  of  usurped  power, 
when  thus  easily  acquired,  to  produce  secur- 
ity, audacity,  encroachment,  downfal.     The 
precentor's   partialities   at  length   began  to 
burst  out,  and  occasional  small  violations  of 
the    treaty    were    hazarded   with   impunity. 
But  when  he  attempted  to  advance  further, 
and  one  whole   Sunday  .passed  without  the 


104  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

assignment  of  a  single  fugue  to  wake  up  the 
indifferent  congregation,  an  alarm  was  taken 
by  the  lovers  of  that  species  of  melody. 
A  repetition  of  former  disturbances  and  irri- 
tations was  threatened.  Some  of  the  choir 
took  no  part  in  the  performance  ;  some  ab- 
solutely left  the  seats  for  neighbouring  pews, 
and  a  convulsion  was  on  the  eve  of  again 
breaking  us  in  pieces. 

The  amiable  Mr  Welby  perceived  the  in- 
dications of  an  approaching  storm.  He  de- 
voted himself,  therefore,  the  ensuing  week, 
to  the  preparation  of  a  discourse,  which  he 
hoped  might  check  the  evil  in  its  commence- 
ment. Meanwhile,  however,  the  difficulty 
was  provided  for  in  another  way.  A  depu- 
tation had  called  on  the  existing  leader  that 
very  evening,  and,  making  the  strongest  re- 
presentations of  the  dissatisfaction  which 
would  certainly  prevail,  if  he  should  contin- 
ue the  course  of  administration  to  which  he 
was  inclined,  extorted  from  him  a  promise 
that  he  would  immediately  return  to  the 
recent  arrangement  which  had  so  well  se- 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  105 

cured   the   harmony  of  the  choir,  and   the 
complacency  of  the  congregation. 

But  Mr  Welby  knew  nothing  of  the  hap- 
py turn  that  affairs  had  thus  assumed,  and 
the  members  of  the  choir,  on  their  part,  knew 
nothing  of  the  benevolent  officiousness  that 
was  prompting  the  labours  of  his  study. 
Even  had  he  been  aware  that  a  reconciliation 
had  taken  place,  it  is  probable  that  he  would 
still  have  interwoven  into  his  next  discourse 
some  gentle  persuasives  to  mutual  kindness. 
His  utter  ignorance,  however,  of  that  happy 
occurrence,  caused  his  sermon  in  some  pla- 
ces to  wear  an  aspect  of  unnecessary  point- 
edness  and  severity.  Although  it  contained 
but  one  explicit  allusion  to  the  choir,  yet  it 
unfortunately  was  calculated  with  exquisite 
skill  to  meet  precisely  such  a  state  of  ex- 
citement as  there  was  every  reason  to  sup- 
pose the  singers  would  by  this  time  be 
wrought  up  to.  But  what  was  meant  for 
exhortation,  was  now  felt  as  reproach  ;  the 
more  tender  and  soothing  the  preacher's 

language,   the  more  it  seemed  like  oil  de- 

' 


106  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

scending  on  the  flames.  The  whole  choir 
had  come  together  that  morning  in  a  state  of 
jealous  irritability  ;  they  were  ready  to 
break  out  somewhere  ;  the  terms  of  the  last 
Sunday  evening's  engagement  guarded  them 
from  waging  battle  with  each  other ;  the  one 
party  were  moody  and  disappointed,  the 
other  felt  injured  and  suspicious  ;  '  and  now, 
to  be  held  up  to  the  congregation — to  be 
found  fault  with  by  the  minister — '•to  be  chid- 
den just  at  the  moment  when  they  were  all 
endeavouring  to  keep  peace  together  ! ' — 
Such  were  the  exaggerated  and  unjust  re- 
flections excited  in  their  minds  by  one  of  the 
mildest  and  most  beautiful  discourses  on 
brotherly  love,  that  were  ever  composed,  and 
in  which,  as  I  before  observed,  only  one 
direct  allusion  was  made  to  them,  wherein 
the  preacher  expressed  his  trust,  that  those 
who  gladdened  the  house  of  God  with  the 
harmony  of  their  voices,  would  be  particu- 
larly careful  to  cultivate  the  much  sweeter, 
and  to  the  ear  of  Heaven,  the  much  more 
acceptable  harmony,  that  resulted  from  a 
union  of  pious  hearts. 


THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR.  107 

But  no  matter,  it  gave  to  those  prejudiced 
and  capricious  choristers  an  object  on  which 
to  exercise  their  characteristic  waywardness, 
and  an  opportunity  to  make  themselves  of 
some  troublesome  importance.  According- 
ly, to  wreak  a  glorious  revenge  on  the  inter- 
fering parson,  and  to  impress  on  the  whole 
world  a  sense  of  their  immeasurable  conse- 
quence, not  a  soul  of  them  on  the  afternoon 
of  that  day  appeared  in  the  singing  seats — 
with  the  exception,  let  me  humbly  add,  of 
one,  as  unworthy  indeed  as  the  rest,  but  who 
would  never  for  such  a  provocation,  have  de- 
serted that  gallery  until  the  imitation-marble 
columns  that  supported  it  were  crumbling 
into  ruins.  Whatever  others  might  have 
thought  of  me,  however  poor-spirited  and 
grandmother-loving  I  may  have  appeared, 
yet  if  there  have  been  any  moments  in  my 
life  of  loftier  triumph,  but  at  the  same  time, 
of  more  piteous  melancholy  than  others, 
they  assuredly  occurred  during  the  quarter 
of  an  hour,  when  I  sat  perfectly  alone  in 
that  deserted  singing-pew,  fixing  my  eye 


108  THE  VILLAGE  CHOIR. 

and  face  on  no  other  object  than  my  afflicted 
minister,  who  was  waiting  in  trembling  dis- 
may for  the  entrance  of  the  rest  of  the  choir. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  moment  when  the 
dreadful  truth  flashed  into  his  mind,  and  he 
perceived,  by  their  protracted  absence,  the 
mistake  that  he  must  have  committed  in  the 
morning.  Yet  it  was  but  an  instant  of  ago- 
ny, and  was  succeeded  by  a  high-souled 
though  involuntary  look  of  calmness,  and 
consciousness  that  he  had  discharged  no 
more  than  a  well-meant  religious  and  profess- 
ional duty.  The  tears  were  soon  wined 
away  from  his  face,  a  decent  composure  was 
assumed,  a  hymn  was  quickly  selected, 
which  Watts,  the  sweet  psalmist  of  the  mod- 
ern Israel,  could  furnish  him  most  appropri- 
ately for  the  occasion,  and  was  then  announc- 
ed and  read  with  a  tremulousness  of  voice, 
that  indicated  rather  a  successful  effort  for 
firmness,  than  any  yielding  weakness  of 
heart. 

I  had  the  honor,  on  that  occasion,  of  set- 
ting and  leading  a  tune,  which  was  accom- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR  109 

paniccl  by  Mr  Wclby's  modest,  though  per- 
fect and  full-toned  bass.  We  were  the  only 
singers  for  the  remainder  of  that  day.  The 
hearts  of  some  among  the  worshippers  were 
too  full,  and  of  others  too  anxious,  to  lend 
us  a  helping  note.  From  that  moment,  the 
closest  friendship  was  formed  and  cemented 
between  Mr  Welby  and  myself,  and  it  was 
but  lately  that  I  paid  him  the  last  dollar  of 
the  money  which  he  liberally  advanced  to 
defray  more  than  half  the  expenses  of  my 
college  education. 

I  was  '  monarch  of  all  I  survey'd  '  in  that 
singing-pew  for   four  months.     Mr   Welby 
of  course  had  no  apology  to  make.  Apology 
indeed  !  He  was   in  truth  the  only  injured 
party.     Had   the   whole  choir    entered  the 
meetinghouse  on  their  knees,  singing  Pecca- 
vinms  and  Miserere,  they  would,  by  such  hu- 
miliation, have  scarcely  effaced  their  violation 
of  sacred  proprieties  and  of  the    feelings  of 
their  pastor.     Should  Mr  Wclby's  Journal  of 
his  Ministry,  which  I  know  he  has  copiously 
recorded,  be  ever  given  to  the  world,  I  have 
10 


110  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

not  a  doubt  that  this  transaction  will  be  stat- 
ed there  with  ample  justice  and  candour,  and 
make  no  insignificant  appearance  among  the 
various  trials  which  a  New  England  Clergy- 
man is  called  to  endure. 

It  was  long  ere  a  sense  of  lingering  com- 
punction, together  with  various  other  feel- 
ings and  circumstances,  brought  the  wander- 
ers back  to  their  deserted  fold.  Meanwhile 
I  continued  the  discharge  of  my  solitary  du- 
ty in  the  gallery,  and  was  most  minutely 
scrupulous  in  selecting  the  tunes  according 
to  the  arrangement  prescribed  amidst  the  re- 
cent troubles.  I  was  determined  to  give  to 
no  person  whatever  the  slightest  cause  of 
offence,  but  to  hold  out  every  encouragement 
for  all  who  chose  to  return.  Mr  Welby  and 
myself  derived  occasional  assistance  from  a 
few  voices  below,  but  often  the  whole  music- 
al duties  of  worship  devolved  upon  us  alone. 
Few  indeed  of  the  members  of  the  late  choir 
carried  their  animosity  so  far  as  to  renounce 
attendance  at  church  altogether.  Mr  Fore- 
head, I  think,  was  never  seen  in  that  meet- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  Ill 

inghouse  but  once  again.  Soon  after  his 
abrupt  retirement  from  the  seats,  he  married 
and  left  the  neighbourhood,  carrying  off  with 
him  one  of  the  best  treble  voices  in  the  village. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  following  winter,  I 
was  compelled  to  fulfil  an  engagement  that 
I  had  incurred,  to  keep  a  district-school  for 
three  months  in  the  county  of  Rockingham, 
New  Hampshire.  Soon  after  I  had  taken 
my  departure  for  this  purpose,  Mr  Welby 
was  seized  with  a  troublesome  affection  of 
his  lungs,  which  scarcely  permitted  him  to 
perform  even  his  strictly  pastoral  services. 
And  now  the  musical  tide  hi  my  native  con- 
gregation was  at  its  very  lowest  ebb.  For 
two  or  three  Sundays  the  minister  did  not 
even  presume  to  read  a  psalm,  certain  that 
no  one  present  would  rise  and  sing  it.  Can 
my  readers  imagine  from  what  quarter  relief 
was  derived  in  this  gloomy  state  of  things  ? 
From  none  other  than  a  few  of  the  very 
oldest  members  of  the  congregation.  Four 
ancient  men,  the  least  of  whose  ages  was 
seventy-three,  indignant  at  the  folly  and  per- 


112  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

tinacity  of  those  singers  of  yesterday,  and 
wearied  out  with  waiting  for  a  return  of 
tolerable  music,  tottered  up  the  stairs  one 
Sabbath  morning  with  the  assistance  of  the 
panelled  railing,  and  took  their  places  in 
the  seats  left  vacant  by  their  degenerate 
grandsons.  Two  of  them  had  fought  in  the 
old  French  war,  and  all  had  taken  a  civil  or 
military  part,  more  or  less  conspicuous,  in 
the  struggle  for  our  country's  independence. 
One  indeed,  bore  a  title  of  considerable 
military  rank.  His  hair  was  as  white  as 
the  falling  snow  ;  the  other  three  displayed 
white  or  grey  wigs,  with  a  large  circular 
bush,  mantling  over  the  upper  part  of  the 
back,  like  a  swelling  cloud  round  the  should- 
ers of  old  Wachusett.  Their  voices  of 
course  were  broken  and  tremulous,  but  not 
destitute  of  a  certain  grave  and  venerable 
sweetness.  They  kept  the  most  perfect 
time,  as  they  stood  in  a  row,  fronting  the 
minister,  with  their  hands  each  holding  a 
lower  corner  of  their  books,  which  they 
waved  from  side  to  side  in  a  manner  the 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  113 

most  solemn  and  imposing.  Their  very " 
pronunciation  had  in  it  something  primitive 
and  awe-inspiring.  Their  shall  broadened 
into  shawl,  do  was  exchanged  for  doe,  and 
earth  for  airth.  Their  selection  of  tunes 
was  of  the  most  ancient  composition  and 
slowest  movement,  with  the  exception,  oc- 
casionally, of  old  Sherburne,  and  the  Thirty 
Fourth  Psalm. 

How  vividly  do  I  remember  the  spectacle 
which  they  presented  to  my  revering  eyes, 
when  I  attended  the  meetinghouse  late  one 
morning,  after  having  walked  on  snow-shoes 
the  last  five  miles  of  the  distance  from  the 
place  where  I  was  employed  in  teaching,  to 
pay  a  short  visit  to  my  friends.  On  entering 
the  beloved  edifice,  whose  white,  though 
bell-less  steeple  I  had  for  some  time  gazed  on 
from  afar  with  emotions  almost  as  strong  as 
if  I  had  been  absent  several  years,  it  was 
my  purpose  to  ascend  immediately  to  my 
usual  station.  But  before  I  had  passed  the 
door,  unexpected  and  unaccustomed  sounds 
for  that  place  burst  upon  my  ears,  and  my 

to* 


114  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

curiosity  irresistibly  led  me  forward  to  my 
father's  pew  near  the  pulpit,  that  I  might 
have  a  full  view  of  the  strange  choir  which 
had  so  magically  sprung  up  during  my  short 
absence,  and  that  I  might  not  disturb  it  by 
my  unnecessary  intrusion. 

This  was  not  the  first  nor  the  last  time 
that  I  have  witnessed  extraordinary  energy 
of  character,  as  occasions  called  for  it,  dis- 
played by  octogenarians  of  New  England. 
Few  of  my  readers,  perhaps,  will  fail  to 
remember  instances  analogous  to  that  here 
recorded.  Those  apparently  decrepit  forms, 
which  you  see  at  frame-raisings,  confined  to 
the  easy  task  of  fashioning  the  pins,  and 
telling  stories  of  the  revolution,  or  about 
the  door  in  winter,  mending  the  sled  and 
gathering  sticks  for  the  fire  ;  or  drawing  the 
rake  in  summer  after  the  moving  hay-cart, 
occasionally  surprise  you  by  the  exhibition 
of  an  activity  and  strength,  which  you 
would  think  they  must  have  forever  resigned. 
Who  can  tell  how  much  this  latent  vigour  of 
theirs  may  be  owing  to  our  bracing  climate, 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  115 

joined  to  the  effects  of  their  former  stirring 
life,  and  particularly  to  the  influence  of 
those  preternatural  exertions,  which  they, 
with  the  whole  country,  once  put  forth  in 
the  war  of  independence  ?  I  thought  I 
distinctly  saw,  in  the  efforts  of  those  seniors 
of  my  native  parish  to  supply  it  with  sacred 
music,  something  of  that  spirit  which  had 
sprung  to  arms,  when  the  necessities  of  their 
country  and  the  voice  of  Heaven  bade  them 
forego  every  personal  convenience,  and  take 
up  their  march  to  Charlestown,  to  Cam- 
bridge, and  to  the  heights  of  Dorchester. 
Ye  laurelled  old  men  !  ye  saviours  of  your 
country,  and  authors  of  unimaginable  bles- 
sings for  your  posterity  !  ye  shall  not  descend 
to  your  graves,  without  the  fervent  thanks, 
the  feeble  tribute  of  one,  who  often  in  his 
thought  refers  his  political  enjoyments  and 
hopes  to  your  principle,  your  valour,  and 
your  blood. 

How  soon  will  it  be  ere  a  revolutionary 
veteran  will  be  seen  no  more  among  us  !  It 
js  with  a  feeling  of  melancholy  and  desolation 


116  THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

that  I  perceive  their  number  irrevocably 
lessening  every  year.  We  do  not  half 
enough  load  the  survivors  with  grateful 
honours.  *  We  ought  formally  and  publicly 
to  cherish  them  with  more  pious  assiduity. 
Their  pensions  are  an  insufficient  recom- 
pense of  their  merits,  for  the  plain  reason 
that  they  scarcely  fought  for  mercenary 
considerations.  Even  those  who  expected 
pay,  and  sometimes  could  not  obtain  it  from 
the  continental  treasury,  would  have  died 
rather  than  touch  the  gold  of  the  enemy. 
On  the  anniversaries  of  our  independence, 
I  would  therefore  assign  to  all  who  had  any 
share  in  accomplishing  the  revolution,  a  dis- 
tinct place  in  our  civic  processions.  The 
orator  of  the  day  should  add  interest  to 
his  performance  by  an  address  to  their  ven- 
erable corps.  They  should  be  escorted  to 
the  festive  hall,  they  should  be  entertained 
as  honoured  guests,  they  should  be  toasted, 

*  This  paragraph,  as  well  as  the  whole  book,  was 
written  a  year  before  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument 
Celebration. 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  117 

and  the  toast  should  be  drunk  standing,  and 
the  chaplain  of  the  day  should  offer  prayers 
for  their  long  and  uninterrupted  happiness, 
both  in  this  world  and  the  next. 

But  this  last  idea  brings  me  round  again 
to  the  reverend  choir,  on  which  was  fastened 
the  other  end  of  my  chain  of  patriotic  re- 
flections. Those  of  my  readers,  who  are 
interested  as  much  in  the  links  of  a  dynasty 
as  in  the  more  general  facts  of  a  history, 
may  wish  to  know  who  was  regarded  as  the 
leader  among  that  group  of  antiques.  And 
the  question  is  pertinent  enough.  For  al- 
though they  were  too  far  advanced  in  years 
beyond  the  miserable  vanities  of  musical 
pretension,  and  were  now  too  much  on  a 
mutual  level  in  point  of  abilities  or  skill,  to 
be  actuated  by  any  aspiring  ambition,  yet 
they  had  also  too  much  experience  in  the 
affairs  of  life,  not  to  be  aware  of  the  neces- 
sity of  some  ostensible  head,  in  order  to 
manage  even  the  humblest  common  concern 
with  requisite  harmony  and  effect.  The 
person,  therefore,  whom,  rather  by  a  tacit, 


118  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

reciprocal  understanding,  than  any  formal 
nomination,  or  elective  acclamation,  they 
made  choice  of  for  their  conductor,  was 
Colonel  John  Wilkins,  otherwise  called 
Colonel  John  Ticonderoga,  the  veteran, 
whose  hoary  locks  were  above  described, 
and  who  had  been  the  first  to  suggest  to  the 
others  this  laudable  scheme.  Let  those 
who  take  pride  in  such  humble  matters  as 
dates  and  names,  remember  him,  therefore, 
as  the  sixth  leader  of  the  choir  at  Waterfield, 
whose  acts  are  recorded  in  this  faithful 
chronicle. 

My  engagement  in  New  Hampshire  hav- 
ing expired,  I  returned  home  to  pursue  my 
studies.  Affairs  had,  by  this  time,  assumed 
a  much  brighter  aspect.  I  found,  on  my 
arrival,  that  nearly  all  the  females  belonging 
to  the  late  choir,  had  volunteered  a  renewal 
of  their  delightful  services.  How  difficult 
it  is  for  woman  to  persevere  in  error  ! 
Though,  physically  speaking,  the  weaker 
party,  yet  how  often  she  resists  the  sinister 
example  of  the  other  sex,  and  proves  herself 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  119 

superior  in  the  strength  of  her  moral 
powers.  The  fair  ones  of  my  native  parish 
were  the  first  to  perceive  the  unhappy  mis- 
take into  which  they  had  been  betrayed,  and 
the  first  to  acknowledge  and  practically  re- 
tract it.  Candour  requires  me  to  make 
these  statements  and  reflections,  though  it 
were  much  to  be  wished  that  the  occasion 
for  it  never  had  existed.  But  I  was  willing 
to  forget  all  the  resentment  with  which  I  had 
before  wondered  at  their  conduct,  when  I 
contemplated  the  novel  and  beautiful  specta- 
cle that  now  charmed  my  imagination.  Show 
me  a  more  interesting  picture  than  reverend 
and  trembling  age  associated  with  blooming 
and  youthful  beauty  in  chanting  the  praises 
of  their  common  Creator.  It  struck  me  as 
an  instance  of  a  kind  of  inoral  counterpoint, 
more  thrilling  to  the  soul  than  the  sweetest 
or  the  grandest  harmony  of  mere  sound. 
Willingly  would  I  have  refrained  from  inter- 
posing my  indifferent  voice,  had  not  duty 
and  persuasion  united  to  re-conduct  me  to 
the  seats. 


120  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

The  experience  of  life  certainly  brings 
every  man  into  strange  combinations  and 
juxta-positions  with  his  fellow  beings.  Yet, 
was  not  mine  at  the  present  time  rather 
peculiar  ?  What  fate,  what  hidden  sympathy, 
what  kindred  gravity  of  character,  drew  me 
into  special  personal  contact  and  cooperation 
with  four  of  the  most  reverend  seniors  of  the 
land  ?  The  contemplation  of  this  new  atti- 
tude of  rny  presiding  genius,  had  sometimes 
almost  too  powerful  an  effect  on  my  imagin- 
ation. I  began  to  entertain  doubts  of  my 
own  age.  At  times  I  thought  it  my  duty  to 
study  a  new  system  of  ethics  and  manners, 
corresponding  to  my  situation.  I  wished 
occasionally  that  Cicero's  Treatise  on  Old 
Age  might  be  substituted  in  place  of  his 
Orations  against  Catiline,  which  I  was  then 
reading,  as  preparatory  to  my  admission  into 
college. 

But  the  dreams  of  this  whimsical  hal- 
lucination soon  fled  away,  as  the  months 
advanced,  and  Mr  Welby's  voice  regained 
its  usual  health  and  mellowness,  and  my 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR  121 

venerated  fathers  in  harmony  found  it  too 
much  for  their  comfort  to  ascend  the  stairs 
on  the  enfeebling  days  of  spring.  Besides, 
if  any  thing  could  have  restrained  the  pecu- 
liar wanderings  of  my  mind  above  described, 
it  was  the  condition  in  which  I  was  now 
left.  Exposed  singly  to  the  fire  of  a  whole 
battery  of  eyes  and  voices  from  the  flower 
of  the  parish,  and  compelled,  by  my  very 
duty,  to  maintain  constant  communications 
and  consultations  with  them,  I  was  soon 
reminded,  by  certain  indescribably  interest- 
ing and  perplexing  feelings  in  my  breast, 
that  I  had  many  years  yet  to  pass,  before  I 
could  aspire  to  the  honours,  the  abstracted 
attention,  and  the  composure  of  old  age. 

But  though  I  pretend  not  to  have  been 
exempt  from  the  susceptibilities  now  alluded 
to,  I  call  on  every  scrutinizing  spectator, 
(there  having  been  several  of  that  character 
at  church)  to  bear  witness  to  the  unremitted 
propriety  of  my  deportment  during  the  sum- 
mer and  autumn  which  I  passed  in  that 
critical  situation.  No  manifestation  of  par- 
11 


122  THE   VILLAGE   CHOIR. 

tialities,  no  encouragement  of  female  frivoli- 
ties, and  no  unfeeling  neglect  or  inattention, 
that  I  have  ever  heard  of  or  imagined,  were 
or  could  be  laid  to  my  charge.  Our  singing, 
I  may  confidently  say  without  undue  self- 
flattery,  continued  to  be  of  no  ordinary 
merit,  though  we  could  not  welcome  one 
accession  to  my  own  side  of  the  choir. 
Several  strong  and  rich  voices  on  the  other 
side,  took  the  tenor  or  air  of  each  tune,  the 
rest  of  them  united  in  a  melodious  treble, 
and  Mr  Welby  and  myself  put  forth  our 
whole  vocal  powers  in  supporting  them  with 
the  bass.  Such  was  the  uninterrupted  meth- 
od we  pursued,  until  the  approach  of  winter 
again  called  me  to  a  distant  place,  to  replen- 
ish my  little  funds  with  the  emoluments  of 
a  district  schoolmaster. 

The  destinies  of  our  choir  were  now  pro- 
vided for  in  a  manner,  somewhat  remarkable, 
but  not,  I  believe,  altogether  unexampled 
elsewhere  in  our  country.  The  first  inten- 
tion of  the  ladies  was  to  leave  the  seats 
immediately  after  my  departure.  Had  it 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  123 

been  executed,  every  thing  might  have  been 
thrown  back  into  the  deplorable  condition  in 
which  I  had  left  affairs  the  preceding  winter. 
Two  of  my  late  venerable  fellow  choristers 
were  now  already  gathered  to  the  land  of 
silence,  and  there  were  no  hopes  of  obtain- 
ing a  leader  from  any  quarter.  In  this 
emergency,  Mrs  Martha  Shrinknot  proffered 
her  services,  and  undertook  the  management 
of  the  whole  department,  until  I  should  my- 
self return  and  resume  it.  She  was  a  lady, 
not  much  past  the  age  of  thirty  years.  Be- 
ing of  an  active  and  inquisitive  turn  of  mind, 
she  had  long  since  made  herself  acquainted 
with  the  mysteries  of  setting  a  psalm  tune, 
knew  its  key  note  at  a  glance,  and  had  fre- 
quently, on  private  occasions,  even  before 
her  marriage,  given  out  the  leading  tones  to 
the  different  parts,  when  passing  an  evening 
with  a  few  musical  friends,  who  preferred 
extracting  an  hour  of  rational  pleasure  from 
the  Village  Harmony,  to  the  frivolous  en- 
tertainments of  cards,  coquetry,  and  scan- 
dal. 


124  THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

It  might  be  out  of  place  here,  to  follow 
Mrs  Martha  Shrinknot  home,  and  exhibit 
her  superintending  the  best  ordered  family, 
and  the  most  profitable  dairy  in  the  county. 
My  concern  with  her  now  is  in  her  public 
capacity,  and  I  may  say  with  truth,  that  a 
leader  of  more  accuracy,  more  judgment, 
more  self-possession,  and  more  spirited  en- 
ergy, never  took  charge  of  the  Waterfield 
choir,  nor,  as  I  think,  of  any  other  choir. 

Her  outset  on  the  first  Sabbath  succeeded 
to  admiration  ;  and  there  was  every  prospect 
that  her  reign,  though  short,  would  be  one 
of  uninterrupted  brilliancy  and  felicity.  But 
an  ill  star  seemed  to  hover  over  the  spot, 
and  new  troubles  soon  arose  to  disturb  the 
peace  and  crush  the  hopes  of  the  lovers  of 
sacred  song. 

Among  the  females  of  the  choir,  was  a 
young  woman  of  much  comeliness,  modest 
demeanour,  and  an  unsullied  character,  who 
had  been  living  in  one  of  the  richer  families 
of  the  village,  under  the  denomination  of 
help.  I  approve  the  feeling  which  has  sub- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  125 

stituted  this  word  for  the  offensive  one  of 
servant.  Servant  seems  to  stamp  an  ir- 
retrievable character  on  the  person  who 
bears  the  appellation.  It  is  less  general 
and  vague  than  the  word  help.  The  latter 
seems  to  admit  into  the  mind  a  sense  of 
independence  and  a  hope  of  rising  in  the 
world.  As  long  as  Mirabeau's  maxim  is 
true,  that  names  are  things,  let  the  young 
heirs  of  poverty  and  dependence  in  free 
America,  solace  themselves  with  the  sub- 
stantial comfort  of  assuming  a  title,  which 
places  them,  in  imagination  at  least,  on  a 
level  with  their  employers,  and  soothes  the 
sting  which  may  now  and  then  fret  their 
bosoms,  when  contemplating  the  unavoidable 
inequalities  of  fortune.  For  alas  !  not  even 
will  this  slight  change  of  name  secure  them 
from  numerous  embarrassments  and  mortifi- 
cations, as  will  be  seen  in  the  case  of  Mary 
Wentworth,  the  intelligent  young  woman 
abovementioned. 

The  singing-pew  for  the  females  contain- 
ed three  long  benches,  rising  one  above  an- 
11* 


126  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

other,  and  receding  from  the  front  of  the 
gallery.  Mary  Wentworth  had  occupied 
an  unassuming  seat  on  the  uppermost  of 
these  benches  for  about  three  years.  At 
her  first  appearance  there,  there  had  been 
no  little  stir  among  certain  of  the  vocal  sis- 
terhood ;  a  few  airs  were  put  on  ;  a  few 
whispers  circulated ;  a  few  stares  directed 
at  the  modest  stranger ;  and  the  seats  of 
some  of  the  young  ladies  were  vacated  for 
a  few  succeeding  Sabbaths.  But  most  of 
them  returned  sooner  or  later  on  better  re- 
flection, or  on  a  reviving  desire  to  bear  their 
part  in  the  melodies  of  the  place,  and  Mary 
thenceforward  was  scarcely  disturbed  by 
any  kind  of  notice  whatever.  Nevertheless, 
her  singing  was  envied  by  some,  and  admir- 
ed by  all.  To  say  the  truth,  she  had  no 
equal  in  this  parish,  and  few  elsewhere. 
Her  voice  was  enchanting  in  its  tones,  and 
astonishing  in  its  compass.  She  was  a  per- 
fect mistress  of  the  art,  as  far  as  it  can  reach 
perfection  in  the  practice  of  our  country 
choirs.  She  was  fit  to  bear  a  conspicuous 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  127 

part  in  an  oratorio,  and  would  have  well 
repaid  any  degree  of  scientific  cultivation. 

Mrs  Shrinknot,  who  knew  not,  or  affected 
not  to  know  the  squeamishness  respecting 
rank,  that  was  entertained  by  some  of  the 
young  ladies,  took  occasion,  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  second  Sabbath  succeeding  her  in- 
duction into  office,  to  exercise  her  lawful 
authority,  by  inviting  Mary  Wentworth 
down  to  the  front  seat,  and  placing  her  at 
her  own  right  hand.  She  wished  for  the 
support  of  her  voice,  and  the  assistance  to 
be  derived  from  occasionally  consulting  her. 

On  the  next  Sunday,  Mrs  Shrinknot  was 
seized  with  an  illness  which  prevented  her 
leaving  home.  She  sent  for  Mary,  and 
after  much  persuasion,  prevailed  upon  her 
to  go  that  day  and  assume  the  direction  of 
the  choir. 

The  maiden  went  early,  that  she  might 
prepare  herself,  by  time  and  meditation,  with 
sufficient  self-possession,  and  avoid  the  flur- 
ry of  passing  by  others  in  order  to  arrive  at 
the  post  which  had  been  assigned  her.  She 


128  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR, 

had  not  been  seated  there  long,  when  she 
observed  two  young  ladies,  who  had  for 
some  years  pretty  regularly  attended  the 
choir,  entering  into  a  pew  below  with  the  rest 
of  their  family.  This  was  soon  followed  by 
several  other  instances  of  the  same  kind, 
and  poor  Mary's  heart  began  to  sink  within 
her.  She  looked  frequently  and  anxiously 
round,  in  the  hope  that  some,  or  at  least 
that  one  individual  would  arrive  to  shield 
her  from  the  oppression  of  overwhelming  no- 
toriety. In  vain  !  there  had  been  visitings, 
and  murmurings,  and  resolutions,  through 
the  whole  of  the  preceding  week,  and  what 
with  the  pride  of  some,  who  could  not  en- 
dure that  a  girl  at  service  should  aspire  at 
an  equality  with  themselves, — and  the  envy 
of  others,  whose  ears  were  pained,  (as  they 
used  to  say,  though  in  a  different  sense  from 
my  use  of  the  word,)  with  the  tones  of  Polly 
Wentworth's  voice, — and  the  indignation  of 
others,  that  the  long  established  order  of 
sitting  should  be  disturbed, — and  the  pusil- 
lanimity of  others,  who  had  neither  souls 


THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR.  129 

nor  pretensions  large  enough  to  be  proud,  or 
envious,  or  angry,  but  who  quivered  on  the 
pivot,  and  vibrated  to  whichever  side  the 
multitude  inclined, — not  a  bonnet  was  forth- 
coming to  gladden  the  eyes  of  that  fair  and 
desolate  housemaid. 

Yet,  though  a  girl  of  the  most  modest, 
and  unpretending  character,  Mary  Went- 
worth  had  an  energy  of  soul,  and  a  sterling 
good  sense  which  enabled  her  to  encounter 
every  emergency  with  composure,  and  to 
act  according  to  the  demands  of  the  occa- 
sion. Mr  Welby,  after  waiting  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  beyond  the  usual  time,  and  not 
knowing  himself,  poor  man,  what  course  he 
ought  to  pursue,  balancing  between  his  fear 
of  hurting  the  young  woman's  feelings,  and 
his  duty  as  a  clergyman,  at  length  resolved 
to  commence  the  services  with  a  psalm, 
which  he  read,  and  proceeded  to  sing  to  the 
tenor-part  of  a  tune,  that  happened  to  be 
the  universal  favourite  of  the  congregation. 

Mary  Wentworth  rose  and  joined  him  in 
the  same  part.  Mr  Welby  immediately 


130  THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

permitted  his  voice  to  slide,  with  a  graceful 
and  almost  imperceptible  transition,  to  the 
bass,  with  which  he  continued  to  accompany 
her.  The  air  was  of  a  slightly  pathetic 
description,  and  thus  accorded  well  with  the 
state  of  her  heart.  To  say  that  there  was 
not  a  little  effervescence  of  republican  feel- 
ing, also,  which  prompted  her,  on  that  occa- 
sion, to  put  forth  the  whole  blazing  extent 
of  her  musical  powers,  would  be,  to  arrogate 
for  the  fine  creature  a  sort  of  angelical  per- 
fection, and  to  raise  a  doubt,  whether  the 
institutions,  for  which  our  fathers  bled,  have 
communicated  to  every  one  who  moves  over 
the  land,  a  sense  of  individual  dignity  and 
importance.  Yet,  although  grief  and  re- 
sentment were  both  labouring  at  her  heart, 
her  strength  of  character,  and  her  instinc- 
tive perception  of  the  proprieties  of  the 
place,  suffered  no  more  of  either  to  predomi- 
nate, than  was  exactly  sufficient  to  infuse 
into  her  performance  that  combination  of 
melancholy  and  animation,  which  is  the  last 
golden  accomplishment  of  the  female  voice. 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  131 

In  fact,  she  was  surprised  at  the  excel- 
lence  of  her   own   singing,  and  this   very 
surprise  constantly  stimulated  her  to  higher 
and  higher  efforts.     Her  situation  and  feet- 
ings  inspired  new  powers,  of  which  she  was 
unconscious  before,  and  inspiration  seemed 
to   create   and   follow   inspiration,   like  the 
metaphysical  loves  in  the  bosom  of  Anacreon. 
The  effect  on  the  audience  was  prodigious. 
At  first,  there  reigned  the  silence  of  aston- 
ishment that  she  could  summon  the  confi- 
dence to   sing.     This   was   very   soon   ex- 
changed for  the  feeling  and  the  rustling  of 
admiration.     A  kind  of  anguish  now  seized 
upon  the   hearts  of  some  of  the  generous 
young  ladies  who  had  that  morning  left  the 
choir.     They  were  half  willing  to  be  back 
again  there,  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 
drown  her  voice,  and  dilute  the  attention  so 
lavishly  and  improperly  bestowed  on  a  hu- 
man being  in  the  place  of  worship. 

But  the  impropriety  of  this  admiration 
appeared  to  be  forgotten  by  even  the  gravest 
and  most  devout  among  the  audience.  As 


132  THE   VILLAGE   CHOIU. 

Mary  and  the  pastor  proceeded  from  verse 
to  verse,  one  after  another  of  their  male  lis- 
teners rose,  and  turned  their  faces  towards 
the  gallery,  so  that  by  the  time  the  psalm 
was  concluded,  and  Mr  Welby  had  laid 
aside  his  book,  to  invite  his  people,  in  a  low 
and  solemn  tone,  to  the  worship  of  God,  one 
half  of  the  assembly  were  already  in  the 
posture  assumed  by  congregationalists,  after 
the  manner  of  primitive  Christians,  in  the 
hour  of  public  prayer. 

From  seeming  evil  is  educed  real  good. 
The  general  compassion  and  admiration  ex- 
cited by  the  case  of  Mary  Wentworth,  now 
presented  an  opportunity  which  had  been 
long  desired  among  the  singers  of  the  other 
sex,  to  return  with  a  good  grace  to  the  seats. 
By  going  thither  again,  ostensibly  for  the 
purpose  of  encouraging  and  protecting  a 
persecuted  young  woman,  they  would  screen 
themselves  from  the  mortification  of  appear- 
ing to  regret  and  retract  their  former  con- 
duct. Accordingly,  a  deputation  of  ten,  on 
the  afternoon  of  this  day,  resorted  to  the 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  133 

spot  in  the  capacity  of  harbingers  or  pioneers. 
In  consequence  of  the  continued  illness  of 
Mrs  Shrinknot,  the  females  generally  de- 
clined to  follow  their  example,  entertaining 
in  their  minds  an  insurmountable  objection 
against  submitting  to  the  substitute  whom 
she  had  appointed,  notwithstanding  the  over- 
flow of  popularity  that  was  now  pouring  to- 
wards that  substitute.  Not  a  lady,  there- 
fore, was  to  be  seen  ascending  the  stairs  in 
the  afternoon,  with  the  exception  of  Mary 
herself,  who  came  and  resumed  her  former 
long-occupied  seat  on  the  most  retired  bench 
in  the  singing-pew,  from  which,  no  entrea- 
ties, or  arguments,  or  considerations,  urged 
by  Mrs  Shrinknot  or  others,  could  ever  af- 
ter induce  her  to  remove.  The  noble  girl 
saw  the  hopelessness  of  contending  against 
a  host  of  jealous  and  restless  prejudices, 
and  cared  for  nothing  in  that  place,  so  much 
as  peace  and  good  singing. 

Mr  Welby  was  still  obliged  to  act  as  pre- 
centor  during   the   remainder   of  the   day. 
The  new  recruits  for  the  vocal  service,  the 
12 


134  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

sight  of  whom  gladdened  his  heart,  felt  un- 
equal to  the  task  of  executing  that  function 
among  themselves.  After  he  had  read  the 
first  psalm  in  the  afternoon,  and  they  had 
waited  some  time  for  him  to  begin  the  sing- 
ing of  it,  he  perceived  what  was  wanting, 
and  speedily  commenced  a  tune.  He  did 
the  same  with  the  two  other  hymns  for  that 
day.  Mary  would  instantaneously  take  the 
treble,  and  her  companions  joined  her,  one 
after  another,  according  as  they  could  seize 
the  parts  belonging  to  them.  After  a  few 
trifling  mistakes  in  the  bass,  which  the  good 
ears,  however,  of  those  who  committed  them, 
were  able  immediately  to  correct,  they  suc- 
ceeded in  making  themselves  all  masters  of 
the  air  before  the  conclusion  of  the  first 
verse,  and  then  proceeded  with  tolerable 
spirit  and  correctness  to  the  end  of  the 
hymn. 

On  my  return  home,  I  had  the  felicity  to 
find  the  choir  in  a  more  flourishing  condition 
than  it  had  enjoyed  for  a  long  time.  About 
twenty  of  my  own  sex  occupied  the  octago- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIH.  135 

nal  box,  and  somewhat  less  than  that  number 
were  induced  by  the  recovery  and  presence 
of  Mrs  Shrinknot,  and  the  prudent  humility 
of  Mary,  to  fill  the  two  lower  seats  of  the 
adjoining  pew.  These  were  all  in  the  best 
training  possible  under  the  management  of 
the  former  powerful  lady,  who,  on  receiving 
the  keynote  from  the  bachelor-merchant's 
bass-viol,  immediately  sounded  forth  the 
melodious  fall  of  fa,  sol,  la,  fa,  and  distribu- 
ted the  leading  notes  round  to  the  performers 
of  each  of  the  four  parts  ; — that  comple- 
ment being  sometimes  effected  by  an  ani- 
mated counter  from  the  lips  of  Mary  Went- 
worth. 

From  this  time  until  the  succeeding  au- 
tumn, when  I  entered  college,  I  discharged 
the  duties  of  chief  singer  without  interrup- 
tion. It  was  a  smoothly  spun  and  brightly 
dyed  portion  of  the  thread  of  my  life.  The 
choir  was  making  constant  improvements, 
and  receiving  now  and  then  accessions 
to  its  numbers,  as  was  to  be  expected  from 
the  exercise  of  regularity  and  perseverance 
in  the  main  body. 


136  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

Very  few  occurrences  happened  to  dis- 
turb the  full  cup  of  satisfaction  which  I  was 
now  enjoying  in  peace  and  gratitude.  I 
cannot,  however,  omit  mentioning  one  mo- 
mentary dash  of  bitter,  that  was  casually 
mingled  with  its  sweets.  In  the  middle  of 
Mr  Welby's  long  prayer,  one  July  morning, 
the  composure  of  the  congregation  was 
startled  by  the  loud  crack  of  a  whip  before 
the  meetinghouse.  Two  or  three  of  the 
younger  members  of  the  choir  immediately 
rushed  on  tip-toe  out  of  the  singing  seats  to 
the  windows,  from  which  they  beheld  a  gig 
and  tandem  approaching  rapidly  to  the  door, 
and  saw  a  pair  of  gaily  dressed  gentlemen 
alight  therefrom.  In  a  moment  after,  we 
heard  the  confident  and  conscious  footsteps 
of  their  creaking  yellow-top  boots  ascending 
the  stairs,  and  on  turning  my  eyes,  but  not 
my  body  in  that  direction,  whom  should  I 
behold  but  my  old  acquaintance  and  competi- 
tor Mr  Forehead,  accompanied  by  a  gentle- 
manly-looking friend  ?  They  had  ridden 
that  morning  from  Boston,  where  Mr  Fore- 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  137 

head  was  a  successful  attorney  of  much  re- 
pute in  *****  Alley.  They  both  came 
into  the  octagonal  pew  with  the  same  unem- 
barrassed freedom  that  they  would  have 
entered  a  bar-room,  and  took  the  first  vacant 
seats  in  their  way  ;  but  on  reconnoitring, 
and  finding  everybody  around  them  in  a 
standing  posture,  they  exchanged  smiles  of 
some  confusion  with  each  other,  and  arose 
again.  From  Mr  Forehead's  familiar  nod 
to  me,  I  should  have  thought  I  had  seen  him 
but  yesterday,  instead  of  parting  with  him 
full  two  years  before.  I  should  have  re- 
turned it  with  a  solemn  bow,  had  not  the 
service  which  Mr  Welby  was  now  perform- 
ing made  it  improper  for  me  to  bestow  on 
him  the  slightest  recognition.  Their  assist- 
ance in  the  tune  which  soon  succeeded,  was 
very  fine,  and  very  acceptable  to  the  choir 
and  congregation.  They  joined  us  again, 
however,  in  the  afternoon,  and  while  we 
were  singing  the  first  psalm,  they  thought 
proper  instead  of  lending  us  their  voices,  to 
accompany  us  with  a  singular  slridor,  emitted 
12* 


138  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

through  the  nearly  closed  lips,  and  resem- 
bling something  between  the  sound  of  a 
bassoon,  and  the  lowest  tone  of  a  bass-viol. 
Some  of  the  choir  were  frightened,  some 
were  shocked,  and  some  very  nearly  burst 
out  with  laughter.  My  own  distress  was 
inconceivable.  I  felt  haunted  by  Mr  Fore- 
head. Rendered  absolutely  disheartened 
at  the  thought  of  enduring  that  sacrilegious, 
though  I  confess  not  entirely  inharmonious 
buzz  through  the  two  remaining  hymns,  I 
retired  from  the  meetinghouse  and  went 
home.  Mr  Forehead  immediately  assumed 
my  office,  for  the  afternoon,  and  his  friend, 
at  the  request  of  Mrs  Shrinknot,  exchanged 
his  imitative  experiments  for  more  natural 
and  appropriate  tones. 

This,  however,  was  the  most  disagreeable 
episode  in  the  present  poetic  period  of  my 
existence.  It  is  doubtful  whether  at  length 
the  separation  from  my  own  family,  caused 
me  a  keener  pang,  than  the  thought  that  I 
must  resign,  and  perhaps  forever,  all  con- 
nexion with  a  little  circle,  in  which  I  had 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  139 

lately  enjoyed,  to  so  eminent  a  degree,  the 
double  privilege  of  receiving  happiness  and 
doing  good. 

After  my  departure,  a  variety  of  causes, 
unnecessary  to  be  detailed,  contributed  to 
the  gradual  decline  and  ultimate  extinction 
of  the  choir  on  its  old  foundation.  My 
shorter  college-vacations  I  spent  at  home, 
and  in  vain  endeavoured  to  arrest  this  mel- 
ancholy tendency  by  the  few  exertions  I 
could  make  to  rally  the  scattered  members. 
Sometimes  I  found  that  a  miserable  kind  of 
contest  had  been  waged  between  Mrs 
Shrinknot,  and  the  singers  of  the  other  sex, 
who  made  all  the  efforts  in  their  power  to 
emancipate  themselves  from  the  mortifying 
dominion  of  a  woman.  But  they  could 
never  succeed,  not  a  man  among  them  pos- 
sessing sufficient  tact,  knowledge,  and  pres- 
ence, to  carry  off  the  business  of  a  leader 
well.  The  singing  was  always  decent  un- 
der her  management,  but  under  theirs,  it 
was  perpetually  liable  to  mistakes,  interrup- 
tions, languishments,  and  helpless  amaze- 


140  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

ments.  There  was,  however,  no  open,  clam- 
orous warfare  between  the  two  parties,  but 
only  on  one  side  the  restless  attempts  of 
pride  to  repair  its  own  mortifications,  and 
on  the  other  the  calm  defiance  of  conscious 
superiority.  They  avoided  an  actual  clash- 
ing before  the  congregation.  The  lady  al- 
ways affected  a  perfect  readiness  to  yield 
her  authority,  whenever  there  were  gentle- 
men present  who  chose  to  set  the  psalm. 
But  this  state  of  things  of  course  produced 
frequent  embarrassments  in  the  choir.  The 
bowings  and  the  consultations  between  Mrs 
Shrinknot  and  the  gentlemen,  occasioned  by 
doubts  respecting  the  propriety  of  particular 
tunes  and  other  matters,were  frequently  pro- 
tracted long  after  the  minister  had  read  the 
psalm  or  hymn,  and  the  congregation  would 
sit  waiting  and  wondering  for  the  music  to 
begin.  Meanwhile,  as  was  to  be  expected, 
several  of  the  least  zealous  members  of  the 
choir,  would  from  time  to  time  steal  off  from 
their  duties,  to  sit  below,  rather  than  be  wit- 
nesses and  partakers  of  such  pitiable  scenes. 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  141 

The  prosperity  of  my  former  hobby  was 
still  further  affected  by  the  introduction  of 
theological  perplexities.  A  naming  young 
preacher,  who  carried  some  points  of  ortho- 
doxy considerably  further  than  I  could  then, 
or  can  even  now  approve,  had  been  recently 
settled  in  a  neighbouring  town,  and  exchang- 
ed services  one  Sabbath  with  Mr  Welby. 
Tall  of  stature,  cadaverous  in  aspect,  and 
gloomy  in  his  address  as  the  very  depths  of 
midnight,  he  arose,  and  after  pausing  three 
minutes,  during  which  his  eyes  were  rivetted 
on  hi,3  book,  he  gave  out  the  forty  fourth 
hymn  of  the  Second  Book  of  Dr  Watts,  in 
a  voice  a  full  octave  below  that  tone  which 
is  commonly  called  the  sepulchral.  The 
hymn  is  a  terrific  combination  of  images  re- 
specting the  future  abode  of  the  wicked, 
and  contains,  among  others  of  a  similar  na- 
ture the  two  following  verses  : 

'  Far  in  the  deep  where  darkness  dwells, 
The  land  of  horror  and  despair, 
Justice  hath  built  a  dismal  hell, 
And  laid  her  stores  of  vengeance  there. 


142  THE   VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

'  Eternal  plagues,  and  heavy  chains, 
Tormenting  racks,  and  fiery  coals, 
And  darts  to  inflict  immortal  pains, 
Dy'd  in  the  blood  of  damned  souls ! ' 

On  that  day  the  person  who  undertook  to 
act  as  leader  of  the  choir,  was  a  middle-aged 
tinplate-worker,  who  had  recently  become 
a  warm  convert  to  the  doctrines  of  Univer- 
salism.  There  were  a  few  of  his  own  per- 
suasion in  the  singing-seats,  and  there  were 
some,  who  thought  little  of  the  matter  either 
one  way  or  the  other,  but  who  would  gladly 
have  excused  themselves  from  singing  the 
appointed  lines,  if  others  of  a  milder  charac- 
ter could  be  substituted. 

Mrs  Shrinknot  was  born  to  be  finally  an 
ultra-religionist,  but  she  had  not  yet  taken 
her  decided  part  in  polemics.  Her  imagin- 
ation had  been  much  wrought  upon  at  this 
very  moment  by  the  novel  phenomenon  in 
the  pulpit.  She  was  already  an  incipient 
convert  ;  already  prepared  to  yield  up  her 
mind  to  the  whole  influence  of  his  manner, 
and  the  whole  demands  of  his  doctrines. 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  143 

When  she  perceived,  therefore,  that  a  ma- 
jority of  singers  in  the  octagon  had  come  to 
a  resolution  not   to   sing   the    forty    fourth 
hymn,  second  book,  nor  even  a  single  verse 
of  it,  her  whole  soul  was  inflamed  with  the 
spirit  of  personal  and  controversial  opposi- 
tion, and  she  has  since  dated  her  entire  con- 
version from  that  moment.     She  turned  round 
to  Mary  Wentworth,  and  requested  her  sup- 
port, as  she  was  about  to  rise  and  commence 
the  hymn,  in  spite  of  the  fixed  resolutions  of 
the   other   side  of  the  choir.     Mary  shook 
her    head    with    her    usual    firmness,   and 
her  friend  appeared  for  a  moment  daunted. 
But  at  length  when  a  sufficient  time  had 
elapsed  to  put  the   congregation  out  of  all 
patience,  and  the  young  theologian  had  aris- 
en again  from  his  seat,  and  was  leaning  far 
over  the  cushion,  with  eyes  prying  into  the 
gallery,  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  cause 
of  the  delay,  Mrs  Shrinknot,   at   the  very 
moment  of  her  rising  to  commence  the  hymn 
alone,  was  interrupted  and  astonished  by  the 
following  dialogue  which  took  place  between 


144  THE    VILLAGE    CIIOIK. 

the  tinplate-workcr  leaning  over  the  gallery, 
and  the  clergyman  leaning  over  the  pulpit. 

Tinplate-worker. — '  You  are  requested, 
Reverend  Sir,  to  give  out  another  hymn.' 

Minister. — '  Why  am  I  requested  to  do  so, 
Sir  ?' 

Tinplate-worker. — '  We  do  not  approve  of 
the  sentiments  of  the  hymn  you  have  just 
read.' 

Minister. — '  I  decline  reading  any  other.' 

Tinplate-worker. — '  Then  we  decline  sing- 
ing, Sir.' 

Minister. — (After  pausing  some  time  with 
a  look  of  wretched  anxiety,  sorrow,  indigna- 
tion, and  horror,  at  what  he  felt  was  a  sacri- 
legious violation  of  his  undoubted  authority) 
— c  Let  us  pray.' 

The  congregation  obeyed  his  direction,  so 
far  as  rising  on  their  feet  could  be  so  doing  ; 
but  had  he  said,  {  Let  us  speculate  on  the 
scene  that  has  just  occurred,'  his  exhortation 
would  have  obtained  a  far  more  universal 
compliance  that  day  than  is  generally  paid 
to  dictations  from  the  sacred  desk,  and  would 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  145 

have  corresponded  with  marvellous  exact- 
ness to  what  actually  rolled  over  and  over 
in  the  minds  of  the  audience,  while  the  min- 
ister himself  was  beginning  at  the  fall,  and 
going  through  the  whole  body  of  divinity  in 
his  prayer,  dwelling  at  much  length  and 
with  peculiar  emphasis  on  the  most  dreadful 
realities  of  the  future  world. 

Of  course,  during  the  ensuing  week,  the 
parish  was  in  an  uproar.  The  communing 
members,  technically  called  the  church,  who 
bore  omnipotent  sway  in  the  internal  affairs 
of  the  congregation,  pressed  upon  Mr  Wel- 
by  the  execution  of  this  rule,  viz  :  that  he 
should  begin  at  the  beginning  of  Watts's 
Psalm  Book  on  the  next  Lord's  Day,  and 
proceeding  regularly  through  that  book, 
cause  every  verse  of  every  psalm  and  hymn 
without  omission  or  exception  to  be  sung  in 
their  existing  order,  and  never  should  depart 
therefrom, — Watts,  like  the  Common  Prayer 
Book  in  the  Church  of  England,  receiving, 
in  many  parts  of  this  region,  an  equal  rev- 
erence with  the  Bible. 
13 


146  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR. 

But  the  measures  taken  to  secure  sound 
doctrine,  were  ill-calculated  to  preserve 
good  singing.  From  this  moment  my  poor 
choir  laboured  with  its  death-wound.  Occa- 
sionally considerable  numbers  would  attend 
it,  and  even  the  tinplate-worker  condescend- 
ed to  lend  his  services,  when  he  could  look 
forward  and  ascertain  that  the  psalms  for  the 
day  interfered  not  with  his  ultra-latitudinarian 
creed.  But  there  was  no  system,  no  regu- 
larity, no  zeal,  none  of  that  essential  espril- 
de-corps,  which  constitutes  the  very  life  of  a 
band  of  singers.  You  could  more  easily 
calculate  on  the  weather  of  an  approaching 
Sabbath,  than  you  could  on  its  music.  A 
visit  of  Mr  Murray,  the  Universalist  preach- 
er, to  the  neighbourhood,  was  certain  to 
draw  three  quarters  of  the  choir  away. 
Mary  Wentworth  departed  to  keep  school  at 
Hampton  Falls.  Mrs  Shrinknot,  disgusted 
with  the  moderation  of  Mr  Welby,  who  has 
always  satisfied  myself  with  his  mild  ortho- 
doxy, rode  constantly  several  miles  to  attend 
the  ministrations  of  the  young  divine,  who 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  147 

had  innocently  caused  an  accelerated  decay 
of  the  choir.  A  sense  of  the  unfashionable- 
ness  of  singing  at  the  meetinghouse,  would 
at  times  pervade  all  the  females  of  the  vil- 
lage, and  keep  them  for  several  znonths  in 
their  pews  below.  A  hundred  caprices,  a 
hundred  quarrels,  rose  one  after  another,  in 
quicker  succession,  and  of  more  paltry  na- 
ture than  I  can  permit  myself  to  describe. 
The  very  knowledge  of  sacred  music  seemed 
to  be  fast  decaying.  No  recruits  from  the 
rising  generation  prepared  themselves  as 
formerly  to  take  part  in  this  interesting  por- 
tion of  worship.  No  movement  was  started 
from  any  quarter  to  effect  a  better  order  of 
things.  All  classes  were  sunk  in  musical 
apathy.  The  Village  Harmony  and  other 
Collections  belonging  to  the  seats,  were 
carried  off  and  never  recovered.  Many  of 
the  benches  in  the  octagon  were  broken 
down  by  idle  boys  who  went  to  overlook  the 
doings  of  town-meetings,  and  were  omitted 
to  be  repaired.  A  feeble  attempt  was  gen- 
erally made  to  sing  once  on  each  part  of  the 


148  THE    VILLAGE    CHOIft. 

day,  but  that  precariously  depended  on  Mr 
Welby's  feelings  and  state  of  health.  And 
if  now  and  then  a  scattered  worshipper  or 
two  straggled  into  the  seats,  it  was  either 
because  they  wished  to  change  their  places 
at  church  for  the  mere  sake  of  variety,  or 
because  they  could  call  no  other  spot  their 
own. 

Such  was  the  condition  in  which  I  found 
the  once  flourishing  singing-pew  at  Water- 
field,  when,  after  having  passed  four  years 
in  Harvard  College,  and  three  in  a  lawyer's 
office  in  the  county  of  Bristol,  I  came  and 
nailed  up  a  professional  sign  in  the  centre 
of  my  native  village.  On  the  first  Sabbath, 
instinct  led  me  to  the  spot.  In  going  to  the 
meetinghouse,  I  confess  I  felt  too  much 
complacency  in  the  conscious  improvement 
which  the  preceding  seven  years  had  effect- 
ed in  my  mind  and  person.  But,  alas  !  this 
momentary  infirmity  was  full  severely  pun- 
ished, when,  on  approaching  the  singing-pew, 
I  perceived  it  too  desolate  and  dusty  to  be 
occupied.  I  passed  a  mournful  day ;  but 


THE    VILLAGE    CHOIR.  149 

better  times  and  better  things  ere  long  arose, 
which  I  may  perhaps  be  able  to  recount  at 
some  future  period,  when,  (if  my  present 
essay  find  favor  with  an  indulgent  public,  and 
my  leisure  from  an  increasing  business  per- 
mit,) I  shall  attempt  the  History  of  a  New 
England  Singing  School. 


date  stamped  below 

jftNSO  1952 ' 


3m-2,'45(3232) 


